Of Charcoal and Rose
By: ann no aku
General Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One
Author's Note: Depending on whether or not this story is a success determines whether I am going to post the rest of it. All but the four alternate endings of this story have been written; I just am typing it up now. I had written this just for myself, but a friend of mine said that I should post it. If it is not that successful, I do not know if I will post the other chapters. If some feel as though the rest is needed for survival, I will strongly consider it. Please enjoy this little romantic story between Severus Snape and my own character Claudia Wallace. If you have seen the movie Truly, Madly, Deeply you can see that side of Alan Rickman in this story. If this does seem out of character for Snape, I suppose that is because as readers we do not know the Snape outside of Hogwarts. Personally I see him as a very passionate man whom just decides to hide it out of fear that people will take advantage of him and hurt him. Snape is a very defensive if not paranoid man. Thanks!
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Claudia Wallace always dreaded taking the underground on Saturday mornings, especially in the rain. Constantly they were crowded, and she hardly had the patience to deal with it. She was already running behind even as she was desperately trying to catch the eleven-thirty ride back to West London. It was most difficult considering she was carrying an oversized bag which was carelessly filled with three large boxes. The idiot at the counter had placed the biggest and heaviest parcel on top, and Claudia did not have the time to even think about putting the bag down to reorder the chaos. Loose cobblestones appeared out of nowhere trying to trip her as she raced madly to the stairs and gliding over the slick ground. I wouldn't be late; she thought wryly, if the tailor had been open on time. She fished out her metro pass and slid it in the slot before walking through the gate to enter the station. Just as she sighed in relief that she had managed to arrive to the station safely, her sub started up in preparation to leave. It was moving by the time her body was fully inside of the car.
Her shoes and nylons were covered in dirty water and mud, not to mention that her hair was a mess and matted down to her wet face. Some rain had even seeped into the cardboard boxes in her bag. Probably ruining my clothes, she mused and found that even after her bad morning she could still smile. She looked about the car and noticed that there was not a single seat left open. Her purchases felt like they were made of lead, and she was exhausted from her marathon trying to make the train. No one even bothered to budge an inch.
The subway jolted as it increased in speed sending Claudia into the lap of a very sour looking gentleman. The bag split on the bottom sending her boxes to the dirty floor. The slit in her skirt tore up her thigh revealing a bit more than what was decent. Crimson stained her cheeks. "E-Excuse me, Sir!" she exclaimed and struggled to stand up, using his bony knees to steady herself. "I am sorry. I, uh-" Her damp packages toppled over in her grasp. It was useless trying to stuff them in the broken shopping bag which she quickly dismissed and left on the floor. She looked up at him for a brief moment; her soft steel eyes met his cold black embers.
"Would you like to sit down?" the man offered. He spoke slowly and carefully not hiding the bitterness in his voice. He immediately took notice of the tear in her skirt and looked away, trying not to stare at her exposed thigh. The tall gentleman stood up and grabbed a hold of the pole to keep himself steady on the ride.
"Thank you, Sir," she stammered and tried to conceal her torn grey skirt. Claudia closed her eyes and silently wished for the world to go away, but it was still there when she opened them again seconds later to her blaring cell phone. A few annoyed passengers shot her a look letting her know that she was not being courteous to the unspoken rule of keeping all cellular phones on vibrate. The gentleman who had given up his seat for her even glared at her from behind his long black hair for a brief second. "Hello? Oh, good afternoon, Michael! I beg your pardon?" Her face fell. "Oh, no, I hadn't purchased it yet," she nervously tapped on the top box which sat atop her lap. "N-No, it's alright. Honest!" she assured. "I just will not attend." Claudia winced as the man on the other end raised his voice. "I will find someone else then. Cheers." Her face burned as tears swelled in her eyes. What had turned out to be a regular Saturday morning was quickly turning into a horrible afternoon. It could not possibly get worse for her.
She sighed in annoyance and felt the eyes of the man staring at her. He could not help but to take notice of the woman's misfortune, not that he really card. Why should he? Yet the woman looked upset. She looked pitiful. And still the rip was showing her pale skin which normally was hidden beneath her proper attire. He could not stop the trail in which his curious eyes took up from her crossed ankles to where the tear ended. Severus could not have been happier when his stop arrived and he could exit the crowded subway. His black robe brushed against Claudia's arm. He almost felt relieved when he heard screaming erupting from behind him. A deep exhale of breath escaped his tightly pressed lips.
"Stop! Thief!"
A young man tightly gripping a fancy purse came running up behind him and nearly sent Severus into a brick wall. He would have preferred to ignore the situation, but the pitiful looking woman was attempting (very desperately, mind you) to chase down the mugger in her wet dress shoes. Against almost all he believed in as someone who did not help Muggles (much less anyone else for that matter), he silently performed the leg locking curse. The robber instantly fell down on the ground as though someone had tied his shoelaces together. He smiled to himself amused that the man had fallen so quickly. The robber even had a bloody nose from when he fell.
"Oi! I can't move my legs!" he shouted and tried to keep Snape from retracting the stolen purse. Red droplets stained his face.
His grin turned malicious as he bent down to snatch the bag. His face was close to the man's so that his breath penetrated his personal space. "You must be very in touch with yourself to carry around such a feminine bag." He stood back up and performed the counter curse so that the Muggle could not hear him. Snape glanced up and saw the damned clumsy woman slip and land roughly on her kneecaps. Her ankle was twisted in an odd position. He could not control the vindictive grin which possessed him. It was quite amusing to see such a professionally dressed Muggle struggling to stand with a hole in her nylons and blood trickling down her calves. Still he could not help the pity he felt for her, and he mentally cursed himself for it. Her legs trembled again as though she was on the verge of collapsing again.
"Y-You retrieved my purse. Thank you." A shaking hand clasped over it and almost greedily grabbed it back. She fumbled furiously through her wallet and took out a hundred pound note. "Thank you so much, Sir."
"I do not need your-" he began, just wanting to walk away and go back home.
"Please, I feel it is the least I can do. Today has been very hard for me." Claudia shifted as she tried to balance her boxes in her arms. "If you do not accept it, it will only add to my suffering today." She feigned a smile, trying to make light of the situation. He was unfazed, and she squirmed under the scrutiny of his stare. "Is there any other way I can express my gratitude for all you've done?"
"I really do not think it is necessary-" he tried to tell her, starting to get really annoyed when she kept interrupting him.
"I could take you to dinner!" Her cheeks burned as she realized she just blurted out something which sounded very much like a date. "Rather, to be more specific, an art auction for charity. I-It'd be free, of course. My date had just cancelled on me. Personally, it was silly of me to trust Michael with something as important as this," she mumbled the last part and looked at her shoes. "Please, Sir, I really have no one else to ask, especially on such short notice. I'll even pay your cab fare to take you to my house." She shoved the money back in his hand. "At least keep that. I am sorry to ask this of you."
"No you're not," he interjected and stuffed the bill into his breast pocket. His calculating gaze made her uncomfortable.
"W-What?" she stammered turning even a deeper red. The embarrassment of the situation was overwhelming. I must look pathetic, she decided. Claudia then took matters into her own hands and shifted through her checkbook, not having time to waltz around the situation at hand. She had to go to the auction with or without an escort. She then tore out one of the pages and handed it to him with a determined look on her face. "H-Here is my address," but her voice had lost the confidence when he continued his questioning glower. He made her knees weak.
"Claudia Wallace?" he read holding the slip of paper firmly in his hands. Her name was so mundane, yet he said it with such a grace that seemed unnatural for him.
"Yes," she replied and self-consciously tucked a stranded piece of her brown hair behind her ear. "Please do not lose or misplace it; someone can forge my check." She cringed as he tore it in two pieces, then relaxed as he handed her half. He had kept the side with her address on it. "What is your name, Sir?"
"Severus Snape," he answered and examined the address label. If it was him going with her to the art auction, he would have a difficult time finding her home. Then he supposed that he could take her up on her offer and hitch a cab ride with her taking the fare. Secretly, he had a passion for art as well as music. During the school year, he was so enthralled in his work that he had little time to do what he enjoyed beyond potion brewing. But whenever he saw someone clumsy, it reminded him instantly of his students (for example, Neville Longbottom) and that just irritated him.
"You have an interesting name. What is your nationality?"
"Ms. Wallace," he began slowly his voice as smooth as silk, "I do not have time for small talk. I have some very important information to deliver somewhere." Snape spun around on his heel, determined to leave her just then.
"Could you at least tell me?" she squeaked feeling silly for sounding like a child.
"Tell you what?" he snapped, practically regretting it when he saw the pain on her face. Must he always be so curt with people? He dismissed the thought thinking that it was just natural for him to be that way. If people found it to be rude and did not like it, then they did not have to like him. He didn't care either way.
"I-If you will be at that address this evening at seven o'clock. If you chose not to, I need to know." Her entire body trembled in anticipation as she waited for his answer.
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He had little idea how he had exactly gotten himself into such a mess, but he was in it. He had been foolish to accept the Muggle's plea albeit she had looked most pitiful and desperate. It was as though the Whomping Willow itself had been unleashed to attack her. Still, Severus did not feel sorry for her at all. After all, it had been her own fault for being quite so clumsy and damned needy. If she wasn't those, then he wouldn't be suck attending the art auction. He must've looked like he was in deep thought for Albus had asked him if something was bothering him.
"You have been standing there in a daze for quite some time now," he said.
"It's nothing," he quickly responded and shifted uncomfortably under the headmaster's examination.
"You didn't run into a bit of trouble on the underground, did you?" Dumbledore smiled at Snape's sneer. "Happens all the time, I'm afraid. Hagrid had quite an experience not too long ago."
"I just am busy, Albus."
"Ah, you see, I always like to enjoy the last few days of the summer term reading a good book. The school year gets too hectic for one to relax, and it has been that way since the arrival of Harry Potter. Don't you agree, Severus?"
Was the old man trying to get something out of him? "Of course."
Dumbledore smiled again and looked up at Snape through his half moon spectacles. "Well, if that is all, I suppose we are done here. Thank you for giving me the information I needed, Severus."
"You're welcome," he acknowledged and finished his tea before picking up a handful of floo powder and entering the fire place. He would have much preferred disapparating, but the headmaster did not allow it on his grounds. The floo was far too messy and sometimes not an exact science such as apparation and disapparation. "Snape Estate," his voice boomed and he was instantly transported back to his large abode. It had been in the family for centuries (since as early as the 13th century), and still looked brand new.
He lived alone for he had no need for servants. The house was large, but only one person ever made a mess. He enjoyed cleaning as a way to create order within the chaotic life he lived. He looked about his den and saw just how lonely it looked, if not a little dark. It was a stone mansion with high ceilings and at least six bedrooms and four bathrooms. He had no use of all the rooms and used a few of them to store his potions and plants when the greenhouse was filled. Back when he was a child, the house was always alive with guests coming from all over to listen to the music his mother had played. Those times were gone since Voldemort had ordered her to be killed as well as his devoted father. The atmosphere was always cold now and the environment had changed drastically since his parents had died. There was no purpose to throw parties if no one could play music or entertain the guests. Besides, who would want to attend a social gathering with him as the host? Him who was a former Death Eater?
Snape sighed and made himself a shot of scotch. He had never been too much of a drinker, but sometimes it was most helpful. His hand found a book as he set down his empty glass. It was a gift from his father when he was a third year at Hogwarts The Passions of Potion Making by Fumus Halare. He was about to flip through the soft pages when his grandfather clock chimed five o'clock. He was too tired to get up from his comfortable chair, but Severus was not one to break a promise to someone. He might be a bit of a vindictive man, but he could never bring himself to betray those whom truly mattered. And Ms. Wallace was expecting him to be at her house in two hours, not that she truly mattered to him. It would be cruel to force her to end her horrid Saturday even worse than it was already. He had no clue as to what to even wear for it had been years for him since he had to dress nicely. It had not been since his parents' deaths during his last year of school.
"May God have mercy on their souls," the priest had said and looked to Severus whom had been a young man of only eighteen at the time. "Severus," he had begun after the service, "This is not your fault. There was no way you could have known it would be your parents. I know that you are not a religious man, you never have been, but please accept that this is not your responsibility. This had nothing to do with you."
But it had, hadn't it? His parents had just come home from their anniversary in Germany, and his mother was stepping off of the train laughing as his father had pulled her into a kiss. He had been there. He had seen his parents die for he had been sent there to ensure the plan went ahead as commanded.
The priest had placed a comforting hand on his arm almost as he knew what secret lay under his sleeve. "Do not seek revenge. It will only make you a bitter man."
Damn the man for being right; he had grown up to be slightly bitter. As a result of his parents' murders, his loyalties to the Dark Lord had wavered until they became nonexistent. When he was twenty four, he had turned to Dumbledore for sanctuary and offered to inform him what he knew about the Death Eaters in return. Even though the old man had said that he did not need to tell him anymore than he wanted, Severus could not help but to feel that he owed his life. It had been his fault they were dead. It was his fault all those whom were killed had died.
The sound of the fire popping in the fireplace pulled him back into reality. He had been sitting in a daze for nearly half an hour leaving him even less time to get ready. Not to mention he still had to hitch a cab ride to wherever it was the Muggle dwelled. He suspected it would be a large home, like his, only with much more life and color. It would not be as chilly or lonely, either. Snape slowly ascended up the stone stairs and walked down the long hallway to his bedroom. He pushed open the tall oak doors and threw his robe on his four poster bed. He then unbuttoned his tunic and undershirt removing his clothes until he was fully undressed. The warm water from the shower soothed his numbed senses as he scrubbed away the day.
After shifting through his closet, he finally decided on a pair of black slacks, a crushed white shirt, and a grey neck sash. He added a black dress jacket and a cane in which he concealed his wand. He studied himself in the mirror, hoping his reflection would have the intelligence not to greet him with some snide remark. It had been in vain for in fact his reflection did comment on how for the first time in years his hair did not look greasy and how well he had managed to clean up. "Thank you," he stiffly replied.
"A tone like that will get you nowhere," the image said. "You have a date, I imagine?"
"Shut up," he spat, not wanting to think of what he was doing as a date. Instead he was already doing his charity work for the year by being the escort of the strange Muggle. Was the woman really going to be happy after acting quite so dependent earlier? He slipped on his coat and disapparated to the Leaky Cauldron from where he exited and flagged down a taxi. Severus handed the drive the half of the check with the address on it and leaned back into the seat of the uncomfortable 'taxi'.
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"Hurry, Ms. Claudia, it is almost seven!" rushed her hired help Mary.
"I am not still positive if I even have an escort, Mary. The gentleman from the station did not even call to assure me that he will be going. He's probably going to be late," she said and fought with her shoes as she laced the satin ribbon around her calves.
"Oh, but he's here! Your date just pulled up in a cab!" she yelled from down the stairs.
"Escort, Mary, I am sure that he is only doing this out of pity. I feel silly for even have asked him! I should have just gone alone."
"It is too late now, Ms. Claudia. He is handsome," Mary commented before quickly answering the door.
"Yeah, right," she sighed then found herself thinking of his eyes. She thought of the deep dark abysses that held the window to his soul. But he's so shadowed, she thought, so dark.
"Good evening, Mr. Snape," Mary greeted the man. "Ms. Claudia has told me all about how you helped her this morning. Remarkable, I must say. It is hard to find gentleman anymore. Please, come in! May I take your jacket?" She closed the door behind him.
"I have it," he assured and enveloped himself in the luxurious surroundings. The house was as he had thought and more. He tried to keep the permanent scowl he always bore off his face and just keep a thin smile on instead. It was easier said than done.
"Ms. Claudia is almost ready. She had been wondering whether you'd show."
"Mary, is he-" Claudia peered down from the top of the stairs to the door. "You're here." Her face lit up in amusement. Mary was right, he does look handsome. He cleans up quite well.
"You look so fabulous!" Mary happily exclaimed. "Too bad Michael-"
"Please, let us not discuss him." She stumbled slightly on the last step. "I love your suit," she blushed. "We have a few minutes, I imagine, would you care for some tea?"
"No time! Come no, Ms. Claudia, you have not your purse nor your coat." The older woman pulled out a large charcoal coat from the hall closet and slipped it on her mistress fastening the buttons just below her bosom to her lower torso. "Marvelous! I truly love the way the gown and coat match your eyes!" Snape was instantly reminded of an over enthused house elf, particularly Winky.
Her cheeks turned the same delicate rose as the sheer fabric trim along her jacket. As she approached her guest, he could smell the light scent of honey suckles emanating from her neck. He averted his gaze from the naked trail leading to her bosom. "Where is my bag, Mary?" she asked, looking out the window by the door. "The chauffer is here."
"Oh, right." Her servant rushed back to the kitchen and pulled the beaded satchel from the table and handed it to her. "Have a lovely time, dear."
"Thank you."
"And your job, Mr. Snape, is to ensure that she does." Mary saw them off and watched as the driver opened the doors for them. Claudia entered first, then her guest. Neither spoke until the Rolls Royce pulled out onto the main road.
"I had meant to ask you, Mr. Snape, what is it that you do? Your profession, I mean."
"I teach," he set his cane down on the floor and propped it up against the door.
"Really? How fascinating! What class do you teach?"
"Chemistry," he replied, not exactly lying to the woman.
"You must have a lot of patience to deal with children, especially around such a dangerous course as chemistry with the mixing of chemicals and all. They do have a lot of potential, children do, but they feel intimidated to show it because of their peers and sometimes their own professors, and chemistry is a demanding class. What you do is very noble, Mr. Snape. I imagine you are not one of those professors whom intimidates your students," she said with a smile.
"Not all students can be intimidated," he replied rather sarcastically personally referring to one student in particular.
"Well you teach a rather stubborn age range. Teenagers are more defiant than anyone else, and they hate to be embarrassed in front of their peers. At what school do you teach?"
"It is a private school out in the country," Snape said not quite answering her question. He hoped that she would not persist with inquiries about the school.
"Do you enjoy it?"
"I beg your pardon," he turned to look at her. The woman sure was curious.
"W-Well I would love to teach," she elaborated. Something about him made her so nervous!
"If you are wondering if I get a joy out of it," he started, "It is not quite the job I had wanted."
"Would you mind me asking you what you'd rather be doing?" Claudia toyed with the clasp on her purse to keep her from staring at him. She blushed under the study of his harsh eyes.
"I'd rather teach something that has more meaning," Snape admitted. He was about to ask what she did for a living, but the vehicle slowed down in front of an exquisite convention center. It was upscale with high ceilings and red wine carpeting. It reminded him of the parties his family used to have when he was younger. The music was even to his liking having grown up listening to classical. He hadn't expected the dining hall to be as brilliant as it was, but the room glowed from the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.
The art auction was actually in fact not as he had expected either. Instead of selling off famous works, it was a bunch of local art to help pay for a new homeless shelter and soup kitchen for central London. One noteworthy piece had captured his eye, reminding him of something from his past. It was an all grey painting of a woman exiting a train into a crowded station with a one point perspective. The woman stood out for she was the only figure in color; she wore a dress of a faint pink. The picture was surreal and drew him into the pale blue eyes of the lady in rose. He found that he could not remove his eyes from it.
"Sold, for ₤500!" the auctioneer exclaimed and banged his gavel against the wooden plate.
"That was my favorite one, too," she mumbled not thinking that Snape could hear her.
"You should have bid then."
"It was only a copy, besides I have too much artwork in my house as it is."
"You're a collector?" he asked with a pique of interest.
"Did you like the painting?" she inquired, ignoring his question. She had noticed his black eyes become alive as soon as the work had been revealed on the platform.
"It is interesting."
The rest of the evening progressed smoothly and the meal was no less than exceptional. Claudia hadn't expected herself to have such a nice time with the stranger, and was happy when he agreed to waltz with her. He was a much better dancer than she had originally thought for he had the graceful moves of an eel. She had figured him to be rather rigid and wondered if maybe he had been forced to take classes as a child to dance quite so beautifully. "You're a marvelous dancer," she complimented but he said nothing in return. After a couple of slow waltzes, she excused herself to make a quick telephone call.
After the auction, the two made their way back to her house both exhausted from eating such a fulfilling meal and from dancing as much as they had. "Won't you please come in for a cup of tea?" she offered, noticing his hesitation. Claudia was pleased when he agreed and soon found that he did not like the lavender tea she had prepared. It had too much of a bite for his taste, so he tried to drown the flavor with a warm biscuit she had made with the drink.
"I feel that I am forever in your debt, Mr. Snape, for you had not only given up your seat for someone whom had fallen into your lap," she began with red staining her cheeks, "But you even reluctantly agreed to share your evening with me at an art auction." She set her mug back into its saucer.
"It is alright," Severus guaranteed, not quite telling the truth. Granted he had had a wonderful time, it was not exactly something he did anymore. He finished the tea and pastry, meeting her eyes from across the oak table.
"No, I feel that," she paused. "I-I have something for you. It is a thank you gift. It's upstairs; won't you come up and take a look?" Claudia led the way to the studio room and removed her coat, placing it over her folded arms. A large couch covered in a white sheet sat against the wall furthest from the door and it had a big canvas wrapped in brown paper sitting on top of it and leaned into the back of the couch. "It's a painting."
"You are giving me something you've acquired?" he questioned, running a hand along the contours of the packaged painting.
"Sort of," she said and that caught his attention. "I had painted that one, actually. I could tell from the way you looked at the works this evening that you are obviously passionate about art." As she neared him a sharp pain shot through her tender ankle sending her towards the floor. A strong pair of arms supported her fall and held her. "I am sorry. I must've twisted my ankle earlier today trying to catch the thief in high heels. Silly, right?" Her words came out in a low whisper for she could barely speak while still in his grasp.
He helped her stand back up and had no time to react to the soft pair of lips which met his for the briefest of moments. Severus wanted so very much to pull back, but in doing so the woman would fall back onto her injury. Instead he just continued to support her light frame and tried to keep her from getting that close to him again.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Sit down," he instructed and set her on the couch. He was unsure exactly what came over him next, but he found himself crouched down in front of her. "Which ankle is it?"
"The left one," she replied and wondered what he was going to do. Claudia suddenly felt very warm, more so as he slid her dress up to her knees and started to unlace the ribbon of her shoes. The bow unraveled itself in his hands and the rose satin slipper gently glided off her slightly swollen ankle.
"This will hurt," Snape said and began to massage her sore. From the amount of swelling, he could tell that she had sprained her foot. As if out from some place he had once assumed to be long gone, he started to mumble the incantation of a healing spell. Heat radiated from his hands wrapping it around the torn tendon. The spell had surprisingly worked better than he had thought it would, especially since he did not use his wand.
"You should be an orthopedist."
"Don't walk on it just yet. Your ankle is still tender from the massage," he lied. He could not risk having himself anymore exposed than he already was. He should not have even healed the damn injury! So why had he? Severus draped his arms about her to support her as they walked to her bedroom. She directed him through the empty hallway and through the French doors to her room. He laid her on her large four poster bed. "I should be going now."
"Wait," she sat up, "How can I get into contact with you?"
"I am busy during the school year," he replied and left the room without another word leaving Claudia feeling confused. He had almost forgotten the painting when he was prepared to disapparate back to his home. Severus walked back up the stairs and picked up the parcel, then disappeared home. He just stared at it before deciding to unwrap it, wondering what exactly the Muggle could have painted that would interest him. It felt good to not have to pretend to be entertained anymore.
His breath caught in his throat as the paper slid down to the wooden floor of his library. It was the painting he had seen at the art auction, and the woman was staring right through him as she propped herself up on her lace umbrella looking as though she knew he was looking at her. It looked like a still photograph; a rarity he had seen so few of in his life. Ms. Wallace was the artist of the painting, and she had given him the original.
He found his old dusty brown owl and attached a piece of parchment he had been scribbling on then added a single white rose with blushed tips. Severus had never been given such a gift in his life from anyone outside of his (now deceased) family. No one had even bothered to take any interest (feigned or not) what he liked with the exception of the ordinary Muggle woman. Normally he would have been upset if not a little angry that someone was starting to read him like a journal, but he discovered that it did not bother him as much as he had thought it would. It was nice to have someone care about him as a person versus an employee or professor. How many years had it been since someone even took a pursuit in seeing the man behind the black smoking cauldron?
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Miss Claudia Wallace awoke the next morning to a fond nibbling on her knuckles. She opened up her eyes and much to her amazement there was an owl sitting next to her on her bed. "Oh, good morning! How'd you get in here?" she asked it, pausing to pet its velvety feathers. "Is this for me?" She untied the piece of string which held a piece of paper to the bird's foot. "Are you a messenger owl?"
The bird squawked and nudged the flower towards her using its peeling beak. "What is that you have?" Her fingers fastened around the rose's stem and brought it to her nose. "It smells wonderful." She shivered as a strong gust of cool wind blew into the room. "I don't suppose you opened the window yourself, did you?" Claudia beamed and stroked the owl again. "Do you want me to read this to you?" she continued to talk to the owl as though it could understand her. She unrolled the parchment and read the words aloud:
Thank you
It was the last time she heard from the mysterious stranger with the passionate black eyes.
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This is the end of chapter one. I hope that you had thoroughly enjoyed reading my story. It does focus a lot more on the wizard universe later on, but right now is just the introduction of characters and their interactions with one another. Please feel free to review or flame. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
~ann no aku