Chapter 26: The Chickens Come Home to Roost
Severus Snape strolled to the gates of Hogwarts, Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, and then decided to walk to the London flat and think on the way. When his report to the Ministry was complete, he would not have an official reason to visit London. To continue down every weekend would be to advertise his pursuit of Muggle diversions, or of one Muggle in particular, and either scenario offended his Slytherin sensibilities.
The shops were starting to look festive for Christmas. One in particular, a florist, caught his eye with a sign: "Flowers for Your Lady". He pushed open the door and found himself facing a very short, rotund and cheerful woman. "Flowers for your lady, sir?" she chirped in Cockney accents.
"What would you recommend?" Severus was comforted by all the greenery and fragrance. He remembered his mother's gardens, and the happy quiet times he shared with her.
"Wot's the occasion? Birthday, anniversary, friendship, 'ostess gift, just because..Oh, sir, don't tell me! Proposal?" the shopkeeper clapped her hands in delight. "I 'ardly ever get anyone who's proposin' anymore! It's out of fashion, marriage; the blokes are too afraid of givin' up their freedom, and the ladies are tired of waitin' for the men to realize that freedom is overrated." She bustled about the counter. "Which stage are you up to, then?" Severus looked confused. ""Ow long you been seein' 'er?"
"Six weeks," Severus replied. This proposing business sounded complicated.
"An' you've made up your mind already? That's magic, inn'it?" Severus gave the woman a startled glance. "Have you met her family? Has she met yours? Is everyone pleased?" She started rummaging in the coolers. "Course, nowadays, things change so fast, if you see wot you want, you have to grab it and hold on or Fate snatches it away." She hauled out two buckets of roses and another of more exotic plants. "Now it used 'ter be folks took their time, and started with one rose, white or blush, and worked their way up to a full bookay of red musks, so as to not scare off the lady, let her get used to the idea." She showed him samples of each variety. "If time was short, like during wartimes, then a mix, not too large, but sincere, was the way to go. Is your lady high fashion?" She waved bird of paradise under his nose. "Romantic? Younger than you, or older?"
"She and I are roughly the same age; she is nursing old wounds from previous love gone sour. She has met all my family and friends, I have met only her English connexions. She is smart and funny, playful, sweet and thoughtful." Severus thought hard. "I would say she was passionate, more than romantic. And she is recovering from the influenza."
"Influenza will leave you feeling like death, to be sure," said the florist. "Let me think a moment. How much time do you have to win her?" Severus looked at her in despair. "Not much. Well, then..wot you need is a campaign, a plan of attack." She ripped a piece of gold foil off the dispenser, laid red, pink and white roses and a mixture of smaller blooms and greenery in a pleasing arrangement, and wrapped it all together into a cone tied with white lace ribbon. "Nine roses, not too many, not too few, enough to be serious but not pushy, get it? You get to talk about the way time is flyin' away, how tragic it would be to waste it, but don't lean too 'ard on the poor girl, she ain't feelin' up to it yet. You better nail down those foreigners, tho'. It don't pay to leave loose ends lyin' about. Perhaps you can bring her by this weekend, so's I can evaluate the situation and advise yeh further." She handed him the bouquet. " That's 5 pound and the advice is free. Don't give up, sir, and don't panic. I've brought many a couple through the stages in me life. Violet is the name, Violet Watkins. I was marked at birth for this business, you might say." She shook hands with Severus and handed him a business card.
"Russ Snape, Violet. Thank you for your assistance. I shall follow your advice." Severus tipped his hat and set off for the flat again, reviewing on the way the torrent of data the Violet the florist had showered over his head. Feeling a bit giddy, Severus decided that some wine might be comforting, for both of them, and he stopped in another shop to purchase a fruity red vintage.
Violet had a point there, concerning Rose's foreign roots. He didn't really know all that much about her past, other than that she had come to England to escape it, and she didn't know much about his past, since he hadn't felt safe enough to tell her about the parts he wanted forgotten. It was going to be a busy weekend, to be sure.
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Rose looked out the window at the gathering gloom. The sun never pierced the clouds all day, and now the light was fading into another cold and windy November night. Her head was clear, and she had no fever; she had washed and dressed in a warm long dressing gown Dobby had procured in some fashion; she wasn't going to ask. The gown was green to match the emerald at her throat. Dobby had brought fuzzy slipper boots to match, so she was warm enough. After sorting through and answering her email, which took most of the morning, Rose had read and dozed the afternoon away. She wasn't up to much. Dancing class was totally beyond her strength. Still, Severus could go without her. The thought left her feeling quite blue. She was presuming he would appear tonight, in the absence of any written commitment, but he didn't have to show. At that moment she noticed a man in the street, bearing wine and flowers, wrapped in a Burberry coat with a fedora, and she knew his stride. Severus had returned, bearing gifts. He really is sweet, she thought. She wasn't willing to take that thought any further, though. She felt very shy, and debated retiring to the bedroom, when he glanced up from the street and saw her in the window. The streetlight shown on his face, and she saw not a smile, not a frown, but a look she hadn't seen directed at her, ever. It was rich in nuances, unguarded, so complex that she didn't believe she read his expression correctly. She grasped the pendant at her throat, and he saw that, so she raised her hand in greeting and with a smile, turned to open the door.
Severus came in, put down his parcels on the hall table, shed coat and hat and handed them to the House Elf, who materialized as he entered. "Dobby, would you be so good as to hang these up to dry?" Severus then turned to Rose and taking her hands in his, kissed each one in turn. "How are you, Rose?" he murmured, and with one arm, circled her waist. With the other he reached for the bouquet and handed it to her, then took the wine and walked them both over to the hearth, where Dobby had built a first-rate fire. They sat on the loveseat where Rose had reclined most of the afternoon.
Rose looked up in his face, still shy, still bemused by his open expression of thoughts otherwise unexpressed. He touched her forehead, "No fever, I see," and his hand continued down to cup her cheek, and then he leant forward and kissed her lips. Rose felt a fever rising suddenly, but it wasn't from flu. He didn't hold her, save the one hand, which slid under her hair to cradle the back of her head. She was free to pull away, but instead she set the bouquet down on the loveseat and put her hands on his shoulders, not to embrace him, but not to push him away either. "By the end of the month my project should be finished, and I will not have an official reason to return to London. I would very much like you to come to Hogwarts with me, to stay. Would you consider marrying me, Rose?"
Rose was caught completely off guard and with her defenses down. She stared in his eyes, searching for falseness. All's fair in love and war, thought Severus, and he proceeded to utilize his Legilimens skills. For each memory she let slip, he supplied one of his own, and so they continued with wordless communication for a quarter of an hour, with a murmured word, or a slight touch to affirm or acknowledge each exchange. At last she closed her eyes in exhaustion, but he heard one last thought: "Take me to bed, please," and after he set her down in Hermione's room, one word: "Stay!"
Dobby returned to the sitting room and rescued the flowers, setting them in a vase on the dinner table. All the food he had prepared could wait for the Master and Mistress to return. Dobby put the wine on ice to chill. He sensed the wards on the Mistress' room, and rubbed his hands with pleasure. Master and Mistress would found a happy family, and Dobby would be part of it, and if Winky also agreed, there could be two happy families together!
Severus Snape strolled to the gates of Hogwarts, Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, and then decided to walk to the London flat and think on the way. When his report to the Ministry was complete, he would not have an official reason to visit London. To continue down every weekend would be to advertise his pursuit of Muggle diversions, or of one Muggle in particular, and either scenario offended his Slytherin sensibilities.
The shops were starting to look festive for Christmas. One in particular, a florist, caught his eye with a sign: "Flowers for Your Lady". He pushed open the door and found himself facing a very short, rotund and cheerful woman. "Flowers for your lady, sir?" she chirped in Cockney accents.
"What would you recommend?" Severus was comforted by all the greenery and fragrance. He remembered his mother's gardens, and the happy quiet times he shared with her.
"Wot's the occasion? Birthday, anniversary, friendship, 'ostess gift, just because..Oh, sir, don't tell me! Proposal?" the shopkeeper clapped her hands in delight. "I 'ardly ever get anyone who's proposin' anymore! It's out of fashion, marriage; the blokes are too afraid of givin' up their freedom, and the ladies are tired of waitin' for the men to realize that freedom is overrated." She bustled about the counter. "Which stage are you up to, then?" Severus looked confused. ""Ow long you been seein' 'er?"
"Six weeks," Severus replied. This proposing business sounded complicated.
"An' you've made up your mind already? That's magic, inn'it?" Severus gave the woman a startled glance. "Have you met her family? Has she met yours? Is everyone pleased?" She started rummaging in the coolers. "Course, nowadays, things change so fast, if you see wot you want, you have to grab it and hold on or Fate snatches it away." She hauled out two buckets of roses and another of more exotic plants. "Now it used 'ter be folks took their time, and started with one rose, white or blush, and worked their way up to a full bookay of red musks, so as to not scare off the lady, let her get used to the idea." She showed him samples of each variety. "If time was short, like during wartimes, then a mix, not too large, but sincere, was the way to go. Is your lady high fashion?" She waved bird of paradise under his nose. "Romantic? Younger than you, or older?"
"She and I are roughly the same age; she is nursing old wounds from previous love gone sour. She has met all my family and friends, I have met only her English connexions. She is smart and funny, playful, sweet and thoughtful." Severus thought hard. "I would say she was passionate, more than romantic. And she is recovering from the influenza."
"Influenza will leave you feeling like death, to be sure," said the florist. "Let me think a moment. How much time do you have to win her?" Severus looked at her in despair. "Not much. Well, then..wot you need is a campaign, a plan of attack." She ripped a piece of gold foil off the dispenser, laid red, pink and white roses and a mixture of smaller blooms and greenery in a pleasing arrangement, and wrapped it all together into a cone tied with white lace ribbon. "Nine roses, not too many, not too few, enough to be serious but not pushy, get it? You get to talk about the way time is flyin' away, how tragic it would be to waste it, but don't lean too 'ard on the poor girl, she ain't feelin' up to it yet. You better nail down those foreigners, tho'. It don't pay to leave loose ends lyin' about. Perhaps you can bring her by this weekend, so's I can evaluate the situation and advise yeh further." She handed him the bouquet. " That's 5 pound and the advice is free. Don't give up, sir, and don't panic. I've brought many a couple through the stages in me life. Violet is the name, Violet Watkins. I was marked at birth for this business, you might say." She shook hands with Severus and handed him a business card.
"Russ Snape, Violet. Thank you for your assistance. I shall follow your advice." Severus tipped his hat and set off for the flat again, reviewing on the way the torrent of data the Violet the florist had showered over his head. Feeling a bit giddy, Severus decided that some wine might be comforting, for both of them, and he stopped in another shop to purchase a fruity red vintage.
Violet had a point there, concerning Rose's foreign roots. He didn't really know all that much about her past, other than that she had come to England to escape it, and she didn't know much about his past, since he hadn't felt safe enough to tell her about the parts he wanted forgotten. It was going to be a busy weekend, to be sure.
***************************************************************
Rose looked out the window at the gathering gloom. The sun never pierced the clouds all day, and now the light was fading into another cold and windy November night. Her head was clear, and she had no fever; she had washed and dressed in a warm long dressing gown Dobby had procured in some fashion; she wasn't going to ask. The gown was green to match the emerald at her throat. Dobby had brought fuzzy slipper boots to match, so she was warm enough. After sorting through and answering her email, which took most of the morning, Rose had read and dozed the afternoon away. She wasn't up to much. Dancing class was totally beyond her strength. Still, Severus could go without her. The thought left her feeling quite blue. She was presuming he would appear tonight, in the absence of any written commitment, but he didn't have to show. At that moment she noticed a man in the street, bearing wine and flowers, wrapped in a Burberry coat with a fedora, and she knew his stride. Severus had returned, bearing gifts. He really is sweet, she thought. She wasn't willing to take that thought any further, though. She felt very shy, and debated retiring to the bedroom, when he glanced up from the street and saw her in the window. The streetlight shown on his face, and she saw not a smile, not a frown, but a look she hadn't seen directed at her, ever. It was rich in nuances, unguarded, so complex that she didn't believe she read his expression correctly. She grasped the pendant at her throat, and he saw that, so she raised her hand in greeting and with a smile, turned to open the door.
Severus came in, put down his parcels on the hall table, shed coat and hat and handed them to the House Elf, who materialized as he entered. "Dobby, would you be so good as to hang these up to dry?" Severus then turned to Rose and taking her hands in his, kissed each one in turn. "How are you, Rose?" he murmured, and with one arm, circled her waist. With the other he reached for the bouquet and handed it to her, then took the wine and walked them both over to the hearth, where Dobby had built a first-rate fire. They sat on the loveseat where Rose had reclined most of the afternoon.
Rose looked up in his face, still shy, still bemused by his open expression of thoughts otherwise unexpressed. He touched her forehead, "No fever, I see," and his hand continued down to cup her cheek, and then he leant forward and kissed her lips. Rose felt a fever rising suddenly, but it wasn't from flu. He didn't hold her, save the one hand, which slid under her hair to cradle the back of her head. She was free to pull away, but instead she set the bouquet down on the loveseat and put her hands on his shoulders, not to embrace him, but not to push him away either. "By the end of the month my project should be finished, and I will not have an official reason to return to London. I would very much like you to come to Hogwarts with me, to stay. Would you consider marrying me, Rose?"
Rose was caught completely off guard and with her defenses down. She stared in his eyes, searching for falseness. All's fair in love and war, thought Severus, and he proceeded to utilize his Legilimens skills. For each memory she let slip, he supplied one of his own, and so they continued with wordless communication for a quarter of an hour, with a murmured word, or a slight touch to affirm or acknowledge each exchange. At last she closed her eyes in exhaustion, but he heard one last thought: "Take me to bed, please," and after he set her down in Hermione's room, one word: "Stay!"
Dobby returned to the sitting room and rescued the flowers, setting them in a vase on the dinner table. All the food he had prepared could wait for the Master and Mistress to return. Dobby put the wine on ice to chill. He sensed the wards on the Mistress' room, and rubbed his hands with pleasure. Master and Mistress would found a happy family, and Dobby would be part of it, and if Winky also agreed, there could be two happy families together!