Chapter 20: In the Still of the Night
Rose was having a dream, a very nice dream. She didn't usually notice her dreams, or remember them. Most often her dreaming consisted of pages of text she had read flashing back at her, or sometimes she dreamt that she was reading the comics, but the captions had nothing to do with the drawings, and it was very dull and not at all funny. But this dream was different. There was color, and birdsong, and she felt very happy. She was in a wood. Ancient old elms in full autumn glory raised golden arches in a blue September sky. It was some three hours after noon and the sun shone through the leafy canopies in beams that warmed without burning. She raised her arms in that leafy cathedral and cried, "I thought they were all dead!"
"I charmed them," said a woman's voice from behind her. Rose turned around and saw a woman about her age and height, with curling black hair, dressed in forest green and with an emerald set in silver on her breast. "Otherwise, they would have died of the disease with all the others. I am Elizabeth, and you are Rose. If you love him, you must be fearless, and you must be swift."
"I don't give love away anymore, Elizabeth. I did that, twice. Love must be earned." Rose shivered as clouds blew across the sun.
"Third time is the charm. Love cannot be earned. Respect can be earned. Love is, or it is not." Elizabeth drew nearer, and put a hand on Rose's shoulder. "You have already earned his respect."
"Love must be returned, and honored," said Rose, defensively.
"My son is honourable," said Elizabeth.
"But does he love me?" cried Rose, and Elizabeth vanished. Rose felt a hand on her shoulder again, and turned to find Severus standing with the sun behind him. She closed her eyes to the glare, and felt gentle lips kiss her brow, then each cheek, and finally her lips.
With that she startled, awoke, and blinking, saw Severus standing before her, blocking the fire. "It's 3 o'clock. I fell asleep, too. I have extra beds, one of which must be more comfortable than that chair." He held out a hand, and she uncurled and tried to stand.
"My leg is asleep," she protested. He muttered "Mobilicorpus" and, gathering her in his arms, bore her to Hermione's room. She clutched his neck in terror, confused by the weightless feeling, the sudden awakening and the unusual dream. As he drew back the covers and placed her in the bed, she demanded, "What is your mother's name?"
"My mother's name was Elizabeth; she died when I was 17. Sleep now. We can talk more in the morning," Severus said. He pulled off her shoes and socks.
"Russ, why did you go to the lecture Saturday?" Rose clutched his hand as he covered her with the blankets.
"I knew you would be interested, but I didn't know your telephone number and I forgot to mention it Friday night. So I decided to go and take notes for you."
"That was sweet of you," Rose sighed, and she kissed his cheek and lay down. Thirty seconds later, she was completely unconscious.
"You are welcome, Rose," said Severus Snape.
Severus returned to the sitting room. The fire had burned quite low, and the room was warm. He stood in front of the hearth, staring at the coals. He had dreamt of his mother, and then Rose had woken and asked of her. That was too much of a coincidence. He must have been too relaxed and broadcast his dream. His habits were growing slovenly. Such a lack of discretion would have gotten him killed during his spying days.
Rose had called him sweet. No, she said he did a nice thing, a sweet gesture, not quite the same. He had dreamt of Rose, too. His mother had kissed his cheek in his dream, and told him that Fortune had turned for him at last, that he would find golden riches hidden in her wych elm grove. And suddenly he was there, in Penclawdd, and before him was Rose, clad in robes the color of the golden elm leaves above, golden hair streaming down her back and shoulders. If that didn't count as a mother's blessing, he didn't know what did.
Severus had two fears: the fear of being hurt by others for sport, and the fear of hurting innocents by his carelessness. He had put the first fear to rest by seeing those who sought to hurt him destroyed by his hand or the hands of others, or by their own mistakes. The second fear he fought by avoiding entanglements. His mother had loved him, and protected him as much as possible, but his father cursed her when Severus was 12, and she grew weaker each year until she died. That was the final straw that sent him to the join the Dark Lord, but his father drank himself to death before Severus could properly curse him back to avenge her death.
Respecting his mother's message, Severus now had a job to do. He must determine if he could be a good husband, and if the lady would entertain a proposal of marriage. He knew only one flaw in Rose: she was totally Muggle. His world would look askance at such an alliance. On the other hand, the British witches were not exactly pursing ex-Death Eaters, no matter how decorated. Or he could do nothing; forgo his mother's last blessing; let things stay the way they were.
"What do you want to do, Severus?" he asked himself. "Asking the right question should make the answer obvious, according to Fanny."
One thing he didn't want to do was go back to sleep. He turned on the videotape machine and inserted one of the films Rose had selected for his cultural education. It was another musical. Rose seemed to prefer those plays with song and dance and happy endings. As the peasants sang their opening number, Severus gave a snort. "Tradition! An appropriate subject!"
Rose was having a dream, a very nice dream. She didn't usually notice her dreams, or remember them. Most often her dreaming consisted of pages of text she had read flashing back at her, or sometimes she dreamt that she was reading the comics, but the captions had nothing to do with the drawings, and it was very dull and not at all funny. But this dream was different. There was color, and birdsong, and she felt very happy. She was in a wood. Ancient old elms in full autumn glory raised golden arches in a blue September sky. It was some three hours after noon and the sun shone through the leafy canopies in beams that warmed without burning. She raised her arms in that leafy cathedral and cried, "I thought they were all dead!"
"I charmed them," said a woman's voice from behind her. Rose turned around and saw a woman about her age and height, with curling black hair, dressed in forest green and with an emerald set in silver on her breast. "Otherwise, they would have died of the disease with all the others. I am Elizabeth, and you are Rose. If you love him, you must be fearless, and you must be swift."
"I don't give love away anymore, Elizabeth. I did that, twice. Love must be earned." Rose shivered as clouds blew across the sun.
"Third time is the charm. Love cannot be earned. Respect can be earned. Love is, or it is not." Elizabeth drew nearer, and put a hand on Rose's shoulder. "You have already earned his respect."
"Love must be returned, and honored," said Rose, defensively.
"My son is honourable," said Elizabeth.
"But does he love me?" cried Rose, and Elizabeth vanished. Rose felt a hand on her shoulder again, and turned to find Severus standing with the sun behind him. She closed her eyes to the glare, and felt gentle lips kiss her brow, then each cheek, and finally her lips.
With that she startled, awoke, and blinking, saw Severus standing before her, blocking the fire. "It's 3 o'clock. I fell asleep, too. I have extra beds, one of which must be more comfortable than that chair." He held out a hand, and she uncurled and tried to stand.
"My leg is asleep," she protested. He muttered "Mobilicorpus" and, gathering her in his arms, bore her to Hermione's room. She clutched his neck in terror, confused by the weightless feeling, the sudden awakening and the unusual dream. As he drew back the covers and placed her in the bed, she demanded, "What is your mother's name?"
"My mother's name was Elizabeth; she died when I was 17. Sleep now. We can talk more in the morning," Severus said. He pulled off her shoes and socks.
"Russ, why did you go to the lecture Saturday?" Rose clutched his hand as he covered her with the blankets.
"I knew you would be interested, but I didn't know your telephone number and I forgot to mention it Friday night. So I decided to go and take notes for you."
"That was sweet of you," Rose sighed, and she kissed his cheek and lay down. Thirty seconds later, she was completely unconscious.
"You are welcome, Rose," said Severus Snape.
Severus returned to the sitting room. The fire had burned quite low, and the room was warm. He stood in front of the hearth, staring at the coals. He had dreamt of his mother, and then Rose had woken and asked of her. That was too much of a coincidence. He must have been too relaxed and broadcast his dream. His habits were growing slovenly. Such a lack of discretion would have gotten him killed during his spying days.
Rose had called him sweet. No, she said he did a nice thing, a sweet gesture, not quite the same. He had dreamt of Rose, too. His mother had kissed his cheek in his dream, and told him that Fortune had turned for him at last, that he would find golden riches hidden in her wych elm grove. And suddenly he was there, in Penclawdd, and before him was Rose, clad in robes the color of the golden elm leaves above, golden hair streaming down her back and shoulders. If that didn't count as a mother's blessing, he didn't know what did.
Severus had two fears: the fear of being hurt by others for sport, and the fear of hurting innocents by his carelessness. He had put the first fear to rest by seeing those who sought to hurt him destroyed by his hand or the hands of others, or by their own mistakes. The second fear he fought by avoiding entanglements. His mother had loved him, and protected him as much as possible, but his father cursed her when Severus was 12, and she grew weaker each year until she died. That was the final straw that sent him to the join the Dark Lord, but his father drank himself to death before Severus could properly curse him back to avenge her death.
Respecting his mother's message, Severus now had a job to do. He must determine if he could be a good husband, and if the lady would entertain a proposal of marriage. He knew only one flaw in Rose: she was totally Muggle. His world would look askance at such an alliance. On the other hand, the British witches were not exactly pursing ex-Death Eaters, no matter how decorated. Or he could do nothing; forgo his mother's last blessing; let things stay the way they were.
"What do you want to do, Severus?" he asked himself. "Asking the right question should make the answer obvious, according to Fanny."
One thing he didn't want to do was go back to sleep. He turned on the videotape machine and inserted one of the films Rose had selected for his cultural education. It was another musical. Rose seemed to prefer those plays with song and dance and happy endings. As the peasants sang their opening number, Severus gave a snort. "Tradition! An appropriate subject!"