Author's Notes - As tempting as it was, I decided not to jump to Christmas. There were a few plot points that needed telling before the castle emptied of students. As this story veers more and more into AU, I am keeping everyone in character as much as I can, although Severus Snape will obviously grow as he cares for Rose. Hope you continue to enjoy it. Thank you to everyone who is reading, and thank you to wi11ow, Coral Grace and FleurSuoh for taking the time to review.
Returning to the castle, Snape secured Rose's guardianship papers in a charmed, locked box located next to his bed. Then, he proceeded to eat the hearty stew the house elves had left for dinner. After a cup of coffee, he began to read his seventh year students' essays on the Draught of Living Death, but time and time again, he found his mind wandering. Finally, he put the parchments down and allowed himself to bask in his victory. At some point, he drifted off to sleep.
James Potter, dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, flew on an old fashioned broom around the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Severus watched him chase after the golden snitch with growing trepidation, his eyes darting all around as he tried to anticipate the Marauder's attack. But careful observation revealed Potter to be alone. Realizing that, Snape immediately turned around and attempted to return to the castle, but his retreat was blocked by a black void.
As he had tried to leave, Potter must have noticed him, because he dove straight towards Severus. Just before he was forced to jump to the side, his nemesis stopped short. As usual, there was an annoying smile on Potter's face, which made the Slytherin tense. Readying his wand, he was surprised when Potter did nothing more threatening than hop off his broom.
"Severus Snape! I want a word with you."
Only then did he see that the smile on Potter's face was warm and friendly. Something was definitely off, and he took a moment to study the man more closely. That's when it hit him; Potter was a man—a young man to be sure—but he was not the arrogant boy who had tormented him at school. There was a maturity and a tranquility about him that made Snape very, very wary. He had a suspicion about who this Potter was, and he no more wished to speak to him than the nightmare of a bully who had made his teenaged years a living hell.
"I, however, have no desire to speak to you," he answered bitterly, putting as much dignity in his reply as he could muster.
Potter had the audacity to laugh. "No, I didn't think you would."
"Then release me from this nightmare."
"You don't want me to do that," he warned lightheartedly. "Lily's on her way. I just hijacked her dream for a moment."
That sounded like typical Potter, which both infuriated and reassured the Potions Master. Resigned, he ground out, "Then say what you have to say so you may leave."
The man had the gall to clap him on the back, his smile widening into a grin. "Don't worry, Snape, you'll still be able to hate me once this is over. I don't expect you to forgive me for what I did to you at Hogwarts. My treatment of you was childish and wrong, but I can't exactly atone for it now, can I?"
Severus' gut clenched. Was Potter actually apologizing or merely reminding him that he was the reason the man had died? He readied himself for condemnation, but it never came. Potter's sunny smile abruptly disappeared, however, and he grew quiet and somber.
"I'm not here to drag up the past, Snape. Thank you for saving Rose's life. Thank you for caring about what happens to her, and thank you for seeing past the fact that she is my daughter."
"She should have been mine," he waspishly professed, his acrimony equally divided between Potter and himself. Immediately, he realized what he had said and to whom he had said it. Mortified, his temper flared in a defensive response, and he sneered disdainfully at the ghost before him.
Potter watched his transformation with far too much compassion. There was no censure or derision in his eyes, and his expression turned wistful.
"She's yours now."
The blackness rapidly engulfed the Quidditch Pitch and the man he had hated for so many years faded from view. Before he could absorb what had happened, Severus found himself on the porch of the Evans' home, the tantalizing smell of roast wafting through the open kitchen window. Before he could knock on the door, he heard pounding on the steps behind him. Just as he turned to face her, Lily flung her arms around him, squeezing him in an exuberant hug.
"Sev! I can't believe you did it! Thank you! Thank you!"
For one, perfect moment, he could pretend that she was real, that they were still at Hogwarts and he had never made the mistakes that had driven her into Potter's arms. And then, the truth of the dream came crashing down around him. She was thanking him for taking her orphaned daughter away from her neglectful, abusive relatives, a home Rose would have never needed if he hadn't become a Death Eater.
Lily kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "None of that, Sev, not after everything you've done."
"I have only done what anyone else would have done, and it shouldn't have been necessary in the first place."
"Hardly anyone else," she replied, her temper starting to rise. "Everyone else is too much in awe of Albus to question his methods. Even Molly and Arthur, who knew something was wrong, didn't think to go against him."
He felt compelled to defend the Weasleys. "They are with me now."
His answer seemed to appease her. In fact, it amused her greatly. "So I have seen. Poor, Sev, I'm afraid you'll have to get used to Molly's mollycoddling. She'll try to mother you as much as my mother did."
The scent of roast suddenly made his mouth water, and he peered curiously at the kitchen window. Although open, he could not see into the house.
"Is she . . . ?"
"She's happy," Lily hastily reassured him, glancing at the kitchen window as well. "But, you can't see her, not now at least, and hopefully not for a long time. I'm only able to reach you because of my sacrifice and your vow to protect Rose."
"Potter needed no such circumstances," he sullenly replied, his desire to see Mrs. Evans and beg her forgiveness absolute.
Lily smiled in fond exasperation. "James isn't really one for the rules. He found a loophole." Seeing his look of horror, she stifled her grin to quickly reassure him. "It's a onetime occurrence. I promise. He desired to thank you as well, whether you wished it or not."
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he had not appreciated the gesture, but he knew that to be a lie. He would never like Potter, but the man's endorsement of his actions had been oddly reassuring, if a trifle disappointing. Potter, he now knew, would not be turning in his grave.
"I am relieved to hear it."
Almost hesitantly, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. It was sweet and caring and so much less than what he desired, but he knew it to be a precious gift. He refused to ruin it by trying to turn it into something more.
When she pulled back, her eyes were filled with tears.
"Thank you, Sev. I know you'll take good care of her."
Something in her voice warned him that this was goodbye. "Will I see you again?"
She carefully wiped a stray tear from her face. "Someday, but hopefully not for a long while. Live well, Severus."
"Lily, I—"
He woke to find himself alone in his rooms, a slight tingling of his lips the only proof that his dream had been anything out of the ordinary.
Severus kept his permanent guardianship of Rose secret, even from Rose herself. He wanted to surprise her at Christmas with a gift that would outshine the trinkets Molly had suggested he purchase for her. On the day of the Slytherin/Gryffindor rematch, however, he began to question the wisdom of his decision.
As students dressed warmly in their respective House hats, scarves and gloves excitedly poured outside to make their way to the Quidditch pitch, Rose stayed near the doors of the Great Hall, her expression forlorn. Several friends, including Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, offered to stay with her, but she was resolute in her misery and insisted they go without her.
He didn't approach until the Hall had emptied of everyone but a few stragglers. When she saw him, she pasted on a weak smile, but it was a pathetic attempt at deceit, and he easily ignored it.
"Sulking does not become you, Miss Potter."
His insult had the desired effect; fire sparked in her eyes. "I'm not sulking! I'm staying inside the castle just like I was told! I thought you might appreciate me following the rules for a change!"
He felt the ridiculous urge to chuckle. She had used his own words as a weapon against him, although he had not derided her in public in that manner since the end of her second year. If he had been as thin-skinned as many of the students thought, perhaps it might have worked. However, he had no intention of arguing with her.
"Did Madame Pomfrey inform you that you could not attend the match as a spectator?"
She deflated as quickly as a balloon stuck with a pin. "No, Professor Dumbledore did. He said it was for my safety."
"Ah."
The new restrictions were likely his fault. Before Rose had left the infirmary, he had been forced to inform Poppy that the girl's cardiac arrest had been caused by stunners rather than the influence of so many dementors. Her heart could have been permanently affected by the strain, and he didn't have the expertise to determine if there had been any lasting damage. No doubt the school matron had been obliged to tell the Headmaster of the attack even though she had found Rose's heart to be healthy.
However, he thought Albus' precautions overzealous. Rose didn't need any additional reasons to mope. It was bad enough that she was grounded from flying and off the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"You have five minutes to dress for the weather and return to the Entrance Hall."
She looked at him like he had sprouted a second head. "Huh?"
He scowled at her slack-jawed inelegance. "Five minutes, Miss Potter, or I leave for the match without you."
Hope warred with disbelief. "You're letting me go?"
"You may accompany me to the stands reserved for staff. If the teachers here cannot protect you, then no place is safe. Now, I believe you have four minutes."
As she raced towards the Gryffindor dormitories to fetch her cloak, he concluded her smile was worth any unpleasantness he might face for his actions.
He needn't have worried. Dumbledore was not in attendance, having been called to an emergency Board of Governor's meeting. The events surrounding the original Slytherin/Gryffindor match had been leaked to the Daily Prophet, and worried parents had been sending in Howlers for the past week.
The Hogwarts staff in the stands warmly welcomed Rose, and she spent much of the game with Hagrid doing her best to cheer the Gryffindors to victory. When Draco got the snitch, however, she cheered as loudly as any Slytherin, excitedly explaining to Severus how impressive a catch his third year student had made.
In her enthusiasm, she rapidly outpaced him as they left the stands, and he wasn't surprised to see her heading in the direction of her former teammates, no doubt to commiserate with them on the loss. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley soon caught sight of her and raced to catch up.
After he had praised his Slytherins, McGonagall walked over to offer him her own congratulations. The usually imposing witch looked unusually carefree in her long red and gold scarf.
"That was very decent of you, Severus. I wish I had thought to take Rose. Albus is going to have a fit, though."
"Let him. Petunia signed the papers."
He was pleased to see that his bland announcement robbed Minerva of speech. His compatriot anxiously glanced around to ensure they would not be overheard before finally offering her compliments.
"Well, it's about time. I told Albus exactly what kind of Muggles they were, but he insisted upon giving her to them. I'm glad she's finally free."
"Hardly free," he replied, his hawk like eyes once again focusing on his ward, who had run at least fifty yards ahead. "Until Black is captured, she will be little more than a prisoner. The Headmaster forbade her to step foot on the grounds, Minerva. Can you imagine the effect of such constraints on a child? Worse, her prison is not secure. That madman gained access once; he can do so again."
Following his gaze, McGonagall watched as the Gryffindor team walked towards them. Oliver Wood spoke earnestly to Rose, who appeared to be quite troubled by his speech. Her hands were balled into fists, and her nose was scrunched up like she was about to cry. Fred said something to the Quidditch Captain which made him stalk off towards the lockers. Then, both twins enveloped the girl in a comforting hug as Ronald Weasley looked on in obvious confusion.
Minerva's eyebrows rose at the display. "Well, she could do worse than one of the Weasley twins. Either would be far more suitable than a Malfoy, at least."
"She's thirteen, Minerva."
"The older witch gave him a look of pity, although her lips quirked into a knowing grin. "Of course, Severus."
He ignored his colleague's teasing. His decision to make Rose his permanent ward had not been made lightly, and he had taken into account all the necessary drama raising a teenaged witch would entail. Besides, he planned on shamelessly begging Minerva or Molly for assistance whenever the need arose.
Rose soon trotted over to him, and they both bid the Head of Gryffindor House a good day. Walking beside him towards the castle, she thanked him so profusely and repeatedly for letting her attend the game that he began to feel guilty for keeping the papers in his room a secret. So as not to spoil his Christmas surprise, he invented a tale of essays which needed grading and left her with Granger and the Weasley girl, both of whom erupted into fits of giggles as he walked away.
In general, Snape despised the days before the Christmas holidays, and this year was no exception. His students were invariably distracted, and he had to be more vigilant than usual lest one of them blow up a cauldron and turn a vacation into a convalescence. Worse, there were sprigs of mistletoe hanging haphazardly from the ceilings like dangling grenades.
He was thankful that such nonsense had been outlawed in the hallways and classrooms, but the staff room held no such reprieve. He had been forced to kiss Professor Sinestra in front of the entire staff the day before. Dumbledore's eyes had twinkled merrily in amusement, and McGonagall had clapped, but he had found the entire incident humiliating.
The day before the vast majority of students were to leave for home, he prudently had planned a theoretical lesson on the properties of Pepperup Potion for his third year class. He should have known it would be impossible to conduct an ordinary lecture when the students were so excited.
Before he could say a word about the Pepperup Potion, Millicent Bulstrode raised her hand. He was intrigued; she had rarely asked a question in his class.
"Yes, Miss Bulstrode?"
"Professor Snape, why would someone smell flowers in a love potion when the person they love doesn't wear floral perfume?"
"Miss Bulstrode, I believe it is written on the board that we are discussing Pepperup Potions today."
Pansy Parkinson suddenly chimed in. "Please, Professor. We covered Pepperup Potions weeks ago, and it's the last day before Christmas hols, won't you please answer Millie's question?"
Most of the girls in the class, including Rose, were keenly interested in the subject, although many of the boys, especially Ronald and Draco, had expressions of utter disgust at the thought. Frankly bored of Pepperup Potions himself, he chose to indulge the girls in the class.
"I assume you are referring to Amortentia, a potion that is covered in sixth year N.E.W.T. level classes. When consumed, Amortentia creates a powerful obsession between the one who consumed it and the one who gave it to him or her. However, it is unique in that its aroma is different for everyone who smells it. And, you are incorrect in believing that it must match a loved one's perfume or cologne. The aroma of Amortentia is much more subtle than that."
Granger's hand immediately shot into the air. "How so, Professor?"
"I have heard of outdoor enthusiasts smelling the aroma of wet grass, or a young child smelling his father's pipe. The aroma imitates that which makes one content or happy. It does not necessarily reflect a romantic love, although it often does. So in answer to Miss Bulstrode's original question, perhaps the person who smelled flowers is most comfortable in a garden, or there is a chance that he does not love his girlfriend quite as much as she supposes."
Multiple hands shot up in the air, and he spent the rest of the class discussing love potions in general and Amortentia in particular. As the bell rang, he called out a warning.
"Might I remind you that love potions tamper with one's free will, and skirt very close to the Dark Arts. They have the power to create infatuation or obsession, but those emotions are fleeting once the effect of the potion wears off. More importantly, the use of Amortentia can be dangerous, and if I discover that anyone has been attempting to brew it, I will recommend to the Headmaster that the perpetrator be expelled. Do I make myself clear?"
There was a chorus of "Yes, Professor Snape," as the class filed noisily out into the hall. He quickly put the topic out of his mind as he entered his private potions lab to check on the Wolfsbane Potion he was currently brewing. The moon would become full on Christmas Eve, and he didn't want Rose's holiday ruined by the presence of a savage werewolf chasing them through the hallways. He was determined to give the child the best Christmas she had ever had.