AN: GRRR! This thing won't let me upload so deal with Notepad. K, then,
sorry that this appears to be somewhat short, but this is chapter 8 and
part two of my little thing. Just to let you know it's only short because
it's the transitional piece. The next maybe two chapters will focus on the
Yule Ball and all it's happenings…you know what that means. : Insert random
Ricky Martin music (or any Latino music, really) : Someone is going to get
laid! Er, no…that's not it-not at all. Seriously-that's something I just
can't write. I can't even write Severus as old as he is falling in love
with my character whose just five bloody years younger. You know it was
going to happen, but I've got to change some things first…I'm not saying
anything more, everything that you need will be explained in part of this
and the next chapter. It's just…I can't really write romance stories, but I
love to read them. I find it much easier to write sarcasm and gore than
mushy snogging romance. That's why it's going to take me nine or ten
chapters to get through ball (er, did I just use "ball"…not that kind! Get
your mind out of the gutter! The red one that rolls! ::blinks at random
giggling:: I think I just made it worse…)
One for the road: "You know you love Harry Potter too much when…track 12 on the soundtrack doesn't frighten you anymore…"
"…you opt for cloaks instead of normal coats…and robes for normal clothes. Fuck pants and shirts."
"…you find yourself loosing hours in fanfiction.net."
"…you say, 'I want a red and gold scarf' and get so fed up with people not taking the hint you make yourself one
…and it looks like a sock."
And don't laugh…I've done all of these…especially the second one. I'll be walking out of school, freezing, and go, "I want a cloak!", just out of nowhere. ::laughs:: yeah, you guessed it. It's beddie-time for bonzo.
D/C: (Haven't had this in a while)…er, I don't own HP but just Emilia. On with the show! Read and review! Please? ::Bambi eyes::
Chapter Eight: Forever and a Day
Christmas Eve had finally arrived at the castle, and everyone was talking quite happily. Decorations were everywhere; holly and ivy were strung in the halls, and there were large and very full evergreens in the Great Hall, which were littered with stars and chiming bells. The atmosphere was pleasant and cheerful, and even Peeves the Poltergeist (donning his orange and green bow tie) was sporting something else than the students to tease and jeer at. Probably House-elves, she supposed airily.
The day was sunny and bright, and Emilia found that most of the students chose to go outside and have a winter's day out instead of being warm in the castle. She, on the other hand, chose to pick out a book from the library and read until it was time to get ready.
Even in the countless books, she could only pick up a book she'd read when she was younger: The Adventures of J. Robin Warren*: Sneezing His Way to The Top. It was a fairly large book that she'd read it in her seventh year. Defense Against the Dark Arts with a terribly gone wrong Charm, and a Squib on his way to power—what was there not to read? As she was walking back to her room to drop it off (tea was with Minerva at three), she bumped into Snape.
He was holding out a purple flask that was smoking a silver color, and when he smacked into her, he held it up over his head. Severus snapped, "Watch where you're going!"
Emilia threw back her hands in a huff. "Same to you!" she replied angrily. "I didn't round that corner in a hurry, like you did."
He threw a nasty look in her direction and continued walking quickly in the other direction. Emilia shrugged, and continued forward herself. Last night, he never did show up for dinner, and he didn't either for breakfast. Emilia didn't really believe it, but she was starting to suppose that Snape was avoiding her. At any rate, he was definitely acting much more unusual since the Infirmary visit. Much more secretive, and even more quick to snap at her.
Emilia didn't really care, though. The Yule Ball was at seven and it the clock she passed in the hallway just chimed three. She wasn't big on looks (as she was fiercely against superficiality—which person needed that kind of judgement anyway? Half these teachers here, she supposed quietly to herself, needed to have their teeth redone. Then again, so did half of England. But that was just superficiality!) Although sometimes one couldn't help it, and she did want to look nice—besides, she did need to bathe.
At six-forty, she was supposed to meet Minerva near the center staircase so they could go in together and make sure that everything went smoothly. After the tea, Emilia walked up the staircase and gave a little sigh as she opened her door. Setting the book down on the table, she opened her "forgotten" trunk and pulled out her dress robe.
It was a shimmering gold robe that looked quite like a liquid. It was her mother's dress robe, and the only thing she had left from her. It almost reminded her of how much she despised parties and balls and anything that required her to dance and drink and be happy. She set it gently on the bed, and went to get ready.
"Emilia!" Minerva said, waving her hand a little. She turned her head, and saw that Minerva was by a statue that was one twin of the center staircase. Emilia's face broke out into a smile, and she walked quickly over to greet her.
"Hullo, Minerva," Emilia said airily. "Pulling out all the stops for this one?" Emilia was referring to the fact that she had on a flattering deep blue robe on and her black hair—usually done in a tight bun—was in a French knot at the base of her neck. She looked quite nice.
"It's still a bun," she said loftily, and Emilia laughed a little. Minerva gave her a little sarcastic "ha-ha to you too", and waved her hand to the stairs. "Shall we go, then?"
Emilia nodded. She walked down the stairs, and felt the swishing of her robes on her legs. She could never get used to the material. It was like silk, but it felt like polyester. Not to mention that the robe was a little too small, which she found out after she had gotten out of the shower. It made her feel a little self-conscious where the robe pulled taut—in all the wrong places. Emilia flushed a little bit at that thought.
Passing a window, Emilia glanced up. The darkness outside created a reflection, and Emilia quickly glanced at her image. Her hair was twisted up into a pile of curls on her head, tentacles of flyaway hair conforming to her face. She really didn't feel like doing her hair in something elegant, but nonetheless it ended up being something really time-consuming. Emilia laughed inwardly. Two bloody hours to get ready…what would Snape say? Something along the lines of, "Takes that long to cover up and dress up? Trying to pick someone up at a school function?"
She and Minerva walked into the Great Hall to see that students were already in there, taking their seats at the tables. The Great Hall had been transformed into a light blue color for the atmosphere, and the candles that usually hung from the ceiling were hanging down even lower, to give it a mysterious feeling (or, as Emilia thought even more, a romantic feeling. It made her want to laugh. How silly she was being!) There were random ice statues on tables surrounded by wreathes of berries, punch bowls, cups and ladles. The decorations were superb, and Emilia started to get quite excited as she walked around with Minerva, who was randomly chatting with miscellaneous teachers.
Minerva walked up to Dumbledore, who was chatting with Severus. Dumbledore, she noticed, had on a periwinkle blue star-and-moon robe, with a matching hat. He looked a little like Merlin, Emilia thought jokingly. Severus, on the other hand, had on a black formal robe, and except for the material, and that was a bit heavier and much shinier than his teaching robe. Emilia thought quite quickly that he did look better now in this light and with better hygiene (it looked like he actually washed his hair!). Emilia smiled sardonically. She never would have thought that Snape would come to a dance, unless he was forced. It was kind of a funny thought, trying to imagine him two-stepping with anyone—or even waltzing.
"Hello, Albus," Minerva said. They were in a small circle, and, as Emilia noticed, Snape seemed to want to shrink away from it. He was torn from finishing his conversation with Dumbledore or leaving it for later and walking away. One foot was behind him, and it looked like he was going to walk away after all.
Emilia watched him walk off, and turned back to the conversation. She didn't understand any of it. She missed the punch line, and as Dumbledore was chuckling appreciatively, she told Minerva she was going to walk around for a while. Minerva gave her a confused look. Emilia shrugged in reply, and started to walk around. She needed to do something much more interesting than stand around. Standing around really was never her thing; she much preferred to walk around or even…dance—but as a last resort.
She got herself a glass on punch, and sniffed it cautiously. She was dealing with fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years here. Ages 14 to 18 and some younger. She knew what they do; after all, she's done that sort of thing herself—spiking the drinks or putting something in it then laugh as soon as they took a sip…and then there were the countless potions, charms, hexes and whatnot to add. It was quite a job trying to take a sip of punch, she reflected.
She walked outside, and saw that winter's touch hadn't gone into the prepared garden, where students and teachers alike were walking around. It was almost nicely warm, although it was outside—Professor Sprout must have made some décor changes, she thought happily. Some bushes were in full bloom and flowers were here and there, giving the walkway a splash of color. Emilia thought, if she were going to walk around, it would have to definitely be out here, in the warmth and quiet. Except for the snogging couples, she thought darkly as she passed one. It wasn't even seven-thirty yet, for goodness' sakes.
She rounded the corner, and saw that the many miscellaneous walkways that lead through and twist around the gardens all lead here, to a fountain. It was a unicorn, rearing it wondrously carved head, and water was spouting from the end of the horn. It was quite magnificent; the water was a variety of blue, yellow, green, red, and orange. It made it look like it was spraying rainbows into a white marble pool below.
The only thing out of place was the person sitting at the pool's edge. The black of him contrasted immensely with the colors of the pool, which formed a soft sky blue as it touched the pool's bottom. The man sitting there was none other than Severus Snape.
"Severus?" she asked softly, walking up to the pool's edge. He glanced at her, almost angrily, then turned back to the water. Emilia was puzzled, but didn't inquire on anything. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence.
"What do you want, Emilia?" he said, almost haughtily. "Can't you see I'm trying to be by myself?" He stood abruptly and rubbed off his robes in such a manner that it looked automatic.
Emilia was taken aback. What was his problem? She hadn't done anything…yet. She furrowed her brow and willed herself not to get mad. Too late, her brain replied almost angrily itself. Emilia almost didn't know what to say back to him. She was…what did people call it…flustered? She'd never been flustered before.
"What is it?" he snapped at the silence. Emilia noticed he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Nothing, just walking around," she replied angrily. "It's almost time for dinner, and just wanted to get out of the Great Hall before it became stuffy. What is your problem?" she added before she could stop herself.
"Nothing," he sneered. "And why would you care whether or not I've had dinner?" He crossed his arms and started to walk up the passageway she'd just taken. Emilia clicked her tongue impatiently and rushed to catch up with him.
"I don't know, I just thought with this being some sort of formal you could act less like the ass you are everyday!" she said vehemently. "Couldn't even expect that, could I?" She glared at him.
"I didn't know you were expecting me to be civil," he said softly, in such a way that meant he was being extremely sarcastic. "And what are you comparing to—you? I've been known to be civil when there is someone around worth being civil to."
Emilia frowned. "You are such a—" She never got to finish her sentence. As the two of them took a step, she heard a loud swish of wind and water. Suddenly, it was as if a huge bubble popped, and the both of them were soaking wet. There was a whoosh of air as the bubble popped, and Emilia felt very odd. She felt smaller, at any rate. Her sopping wet black hair was in her face, and she tried to push it out of her eyes. Everything around her felt wet.
She held up her arms to examine the damage. Her robes were soaking wet, and they clung to her most unfortunately in all the wrong places—accenting them as they gathered to her. Emilia looked over at Snape, and gasped.
He was as soaking wet as well as she was, but he looked so much different wet…or he looked younger. The age lines from his eyes and mouth were gone and replaced with smooth skin. His hair was a little bit longer, but that wasn't from the wetness. There was a definite addition of the looseness of robes around his waist, like he lost a lot of weight…and it was added to his chest and upper arms, because there was definitely was tautness there. In other words, Emilia thought quite senselessly and even more childishly—he looked really quite cute.
"What happened?" he sputtered, and looked up at her—and stopped mid- sentence. Emilia blushed foolishly at his deep stare.
"What?" she said sharply. "Oh, never mind what," she added, and pulled out her wand. "Men," she said absentmindedly, "never can be resourceful." She waved her wand around quickly and the both of them and muttered, "Impervious**!" The water that was on them seemed to be repelled, as both of them stood there completely dry, which, Emilia thought happily, was a nice change. She lifted her arms and examined her robes, and found them to be dry. Then she put a hand carefully on her head, and felt her hair to be dry. The spell went okay for her. Glancing at Snape, she saw that he appeared dry—but, the way he was acting, she could care less if her remained wet for the rest of the dance.
Now what had happened to them? Why did the both of them appear wet? And, to a higher extent, why did Severus look extremely young? Like, ten years younger? Emilia turned to ask him this, but he was busy brushing off his robes again, and probably wouldn't pay much attention to her. She took a breath, and said, "You look…different."
His head snapped up. That one got his attention. "What do you mean?"
"Younger," she said, trying to pick the right word. "Much more fit."
Sighing irritably, he brushed by her and went over to the water fountain. He looked in and she heard an audible gasp. "What?" she said quickly, and ran over herself. She looked in the fountain, and saw her reflection:
She looked like she was seventeen again.
One for the road: "You know you love Harry Potter too much when…track 12 on the soundtrack doesn't frighten you anymore…"
"…you opt for cloaks instead of normal coats…and robes for normal clothes. Fuck pants and shirts."
"…you find yourself loosing hours in fanfiction.net."
"…you say, 'I want a red and gold scarf' and get so fed up with people not taking the hint you make yourself one
…and it looks like a sock."
And don't laugh…I've done all of these…especially the second one. I'll be walking out of school, freezing, and go, "I want a cloak!", just out of nowhere. ::laughs:: yeah, you guessed it. It's beddie-time for bonzo.
D/C: (Haven't had this in a while)…er, I don't own HP but just Emilia. On with the show! Read and review! Please? ::Bambi eyes::
Chapter Eight: Forever and a Day
Christmas Eve had finally arrived at the castle, and everyone was talking quite happily. Decorations were everywhere; holly and ivy were strung in the halls, and there were large and very full evergreens in the Great Hall, which were littered with stars and chiming bells. The atmosphere was pleasant and cheerful, and even Peeves the Poltergeist (donning his orange and green bow tie) was sporting something else than the students to tease and jeer at. Probably House-elves, she supposed airily.
The day was sunny and bright, and Emilia found that most of the students chose to go outside and have a winter's day out instead of being warm in the castle. She, on the other hand, chose to pick out a book from the library and read until it was time to get ready.
Even in the countless books, she could only pick up a book she'd read when she was younger: The Adventures of J. Robin Warren*: Sneezing His Way to The Top. It was a fairly large book that she'd read it in her seventh year. Defense Against the Dark Arts with a terribly gone wrong Charm, and a Squib on his way to power—what was there not to read? As she was walking back to her room to drop it off (tea was with Minerva at three), she bumped into Snape.
He was holding out a purple flask that was smoking a silver color, and when he smacked into her, he held it up over his head. Severus snapped, "Watch where you're going!"
Emilia threw back her hands in a huff. "Same to you!" she replied angrily. "I didn't round that corner in a hurry, like you did."
He threw a nasty look in her direction and continued walking quickly in the other direction. Emilia shrugged, and continued forward herself. Last night, he never did show up for dinner, and he didn't either for breakfast. Emilia didn't really believe it, but she was starting to suppose that Snape was avoiding her. At any rate, he was definitely acting much more unusual since the Infirmary visit. Much more secretive, and even more quick to snap at her.
Emilia didn't really care, though. The Yule Ball was at seven and it the clock she passed in the hallway just chimed three. She wasn't big on looks (as she was fiercely against superficiality—which person needed that kind of judgement anyway? Half these teachers here, she supposed quietly to herself, needed to have their teeth redone. Then again, so did half of England. But that was just superficiality!) Although sometimes one couldn't help it, and she did want to look nice—besides, she did need to bathe.
At six-forty, she was supposed to meet Minerva near the center staircase so they could go in together and make sure that everything went smoothly. After the tea, Emilia walked up the staircase and gave a little sigh as she opened her door. Setting the book down on the table, she opened her "forgotten" trunk and pulled out her dress robe.
It was a shimmering gold robe that looked quite like a liquid. It was her mother's dress robe, and the only thing she had left from her. It almost reminded her of how much she despised parties and balls and anything that required her to dance and drink and be happy. She set it gently on the bed, and went to get ready.
"Emilia!" Minerva said, waving her hand a little. She turned her head, and saw that Minerva was by a statue that was one twin of the center staircase. Emilia's face broke out into a smile, and she walked quickly over to greet her.
"Hullo, Minerva," Emilia said airily. "Pulling out all the stops for this one?" Emilia was referring to the fact that she had on a flattering deep blue robe on and her black hair—usually done in a tight bun—was in a French knot at the base of her neck. She looked quite nice.
"It's still a bun," she said loftily, and Emilia laughed a little. Minerva gave her a little sarcastic "ha-ha to you too", and waved her hand to the stairs. "Shall we go, then?"
Emilia nodded. She walked down the stairs, and felt the swishing of her robes on her legs. She could never get used to the material. It was like silk, but it felt like polyester. Not to mention that the robe was a little too small, which she found out after she had gotten out of the shower. It made her feel a little self-conscious where the robe pulled taut—in all the wrong places. Emilia flushed a little bit at that thought.
Passing a window, Emilia glanced up. The darkness outside created a reflection, and Emilia quickly glanced at her image. Her hair was twisted up into a pile of curls on her head, tentacles of flyaway hair conforming to her face. She really didn't feel like doing her hair in something elegant, but nonetheless it ended up being something really time-consuming. Emilia laughed inwardly. Two bloody hours to get ready…what would Snape say? Something along the lines of, "Takes that long to cover up and dress up? Trying to pick someone up at a school function?"
She and Minerva walked into the Great Hall to see that students were already in there, taking their seats at the tables. The Great Hall had been transformed into a light blue color for the atmosphere, and the candles that usually hung from the ceiling were hanging down even lower, to give it a mysterious feeling (or, as Emilia thought even more, a romantic feeling. It made her want to laugh. How silly she was being!) There were random ice statues on tables surrounded by wreathes of berries, punch bowls, cups and ladles. The decorations were superb, and Emilia started to get quite excited as she walked around with Minerva, who was randomly chatting with miscellaneous teachers.
Minerva walked up to Dumbledore, who was chatting with Severus. Dumbledore, she noticed, had on a periwinkle blue star-and-moon robe, with a matching hat. He looked a little like Merlin, Emilia thought jokingly. Severus, on the other hand, had on a black formal robe, and except for the material, and that was a bit heavier and much shinier than his teaching robe. Emilia thought quite quickly that he did look better now in this light and with better hygiene (it looked like he actually washed his hair!). Emilia smiled sardonically. She never would have thought that Snape would come to a dance, unless he was forced. It was kind of a funny thought, trying to imagine him two-stepping with anyone—or even waltzing.
"Hello, Albus," Minerva said. They were in a small circle, and, as Emilia noticed, Snape seemed to want to shrink away from it. He was torn from finishing his conversation with Dumbledore or leaving it for later and walking away. One foot was behind him, and it looked like he was going to walk away after all.
Emilia watched him walk off, and turned back to the conversation. She didn't understand any of it. She missed the punch line, and as Dumbledore was chuckling appreciatively, she told Minerva she was going to walk around for a while. Minerva gave her a confused look. Emilia shrugged in reply, and started to walk around. She needed to do something much more interesting than stand around. Standing around really was never her thing; she much preferred to walk around or even…dance—but as a last resort.
She got herself a glass on punch, and sniffed it cautiously. She was dealing with fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years here. Ages 14 to 18 and some younger. She knew what they do; after all, she's done that sort of thing herself—spiking the drinks or putting something in it then laugh as soon as they took a sip…and then there were the countless potions, charms, hexes and whatnot to add. It was quite a job trying to take a sip of punch, she reflected.
She walked outside, and saw that winter's touch hadn't gone into the prepared garden, where students and teachers alike were walking around. It was almost nicely warm, although it was outside—Professor Sprout must have made some décor changes, she thought happily. Some bushes were in full bloom and flowers were here and there, giving the walkway a splash of color. Emilia thought, if she were going to walk around, it would have to definitely be out here, in the warmth and quiet. Except for the snogging couples, she thought darkly as she passed one. It wasn't even seven-thirty yet, for goodness' sakes.
She rounded the corner, and saw that the many miscellaneous walkways that lead through and twist around the gardens all lead here, to a fountain. It was a unicorn, rearing it wondrously carved head, and water was spouting from the end of the horn. It was quite magnificent; the water was a variety of blue, yellow, green, red, and orange. It made it look like it was spraying rainbows into a white marble pool below.
The only thing out of place was the person sitting at the pool's edge. The black of him contrasted immensely with the colors of the pool, which formed a soft sky blue as it touched the pool's bottom. The man sitting there was none other than Severus Snape.
"Severus?" she asked softly, walking up to the pool's edge. He glanced at her, almost angrily, then turned back to the water. Emilia was puzzled, but didn't inquire on anything. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence.
"What do you want, Emilia?" he said, almost haughtily. "Can't you see I'm trying to be by myself?" He stood abruptly and rubbed off his robes in such a manner that it looked automatic.
Emilia was taken aback. What was his problem? She hadn't done anything…yet. She furrowed her brow and willed herself not to get mad. Too late, her brain replied almost angrily itself. Emilia almost didn't know what to say back to him. She was…what did people call it…flustered? She'd never been flustered before.
"What is it?" he snapped at the silence. Emilia noticed he couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Nothing, just walking around," she replied angrily. "It's almost time for dinner, and just wanted to get out of the Great Hall before it became stuffy. What is your problem?" she added before she could stop herself.
"Nothing," he sneered. "And why would you care whether or not I've had dinner?" He crossed his arms and started to walk up the passageway she'd just taken. Emilia clicked her tongue impatiently and rushed to catch up with him.
"I don't know, I just thought with this being some sort of formal you could act less like the ass you are everyday!" she said vehemently. "Couldn't even expect that, could I?" She glared at him.
"I didn't know you were expecting me to be civil," he said softly, in such a way that meant he was being extremely sarcastic. "And what are you comparing to—you? I've been known to be civil when there is someone around worth being civil to."
Emilia frowned. "You are such a—" She never got to finish her sentence. As the two of them took a step, she heard a loud swish of wind and water. Suddenly, it was as if a huge bubble popped, and the both of them were soaking wet. There was a whoosh of air as the bubble popped, and Emilia felt very odd. She felt smaller, at any rate. Her sopping wet black hair was in her face, and she tried to push it out of her eyes. Everything around her felt wet.
She held up her arms to examine the damage. Her robes were soaking wet, and they clung to her most unfortunately in all the wrong places—accenting them as they gathered to her. Emilia looked over at Snape, and gasped.
He was as soaking wet as well as she was, but he looked so much different wet…or he looked younger. The age lines from his eyes and mouth were gone and replaced with smooth skin. His hair was a little bit longer, but that wasn't from the wetness. There was a definite addition of the looseness of robes around his waist, like he lost a lot of weight…and it was added to his chest and upper arms, because there was definitely was tautness there. In other words, Emilia thought quite senselessly and even more childishly—he looked really quite cute.
"What happened?" he sputtered, and looked up at her—and stopped mid- sentence. Emilia blushed foolishly at his deep stare.
"What?" she said sharply. "Oh, never mind what," she added, and pulled out her wand. "Men," she said absentmindedly, "never can be resourceful." She waved her wand around quickly and the both of them and muttered, "Impervious**!" The water that was on them seemed to be repelled, as both of them stood there completely dry, which, Emilia thought happily, was a nice change. She lifted her arms and examined her robes, and found them to be dry. Then she put a hand carefully on her head, and felt her hair to be dry. The spell went okay for her. Glancing at Snape, she saw that he appeared dry—but, the way he was acting, she could care less if her remained wet for the rest of the dance.
Now what had happened to them? Why did the both of them appear wet? And, to a higher extent, why did Severus look extremely young? Like, ten years younger? Emilia turned to ask him this, but he was busy brushing off his robes again, and probably wouldn't pay much attention to her. She took a breath, and said, "You look…different."
His head snapped up. That one got his attention. "What do you mean?"
"Younger," she said, trying to pick the right word. "Much more fit."
Sighing irritably, he brushed by her and went over to the water fountain. He looked in and she heard an audible gasp. "What?" she said quickly, and ran over herself. She looked in the fountain, and saw her reflection:
She looked like she was seventeen again.