Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original Harry Potter universe. The poem "The Highwayman" was written by Alfred Noyes and the song "In The Still Of The Night" was written by Fred Parris of the Five Satins, so I don't own those either.
Chapter 2: In The Still Of The Night
On the night of the Sorting Ceremony, after Hogwarts had officially gone to bed, Geillis couldn't sleep. She was starting to feel a bit confined; she needed to take a walk. She dressed, threw on her cloak, and left her rooms.
She stepped out into the night air with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she had been able to get outside! There were times when, as much as she loved this castle already, she simply had to get out of those stone walls.
She slowly made her way over to the gardens. Even at night they were stunning, for Hogwarts had a large variety of night-blooming flowers there. The moon was full and shone brightly enough that, had she wanted to, Geillis could have read by its light. Even so, she could see a few stars, and she smiled. She loved the night sky, even when it was clouded over. There was just something about the way that it seemed to go on forever, compared to the seemingly limited bowl of the sky in the daytime. She smiled, and the words she had learned out of a book of Muggle poetry years ago came almost unbidden to her lips:
"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier-hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered, and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-
'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'—"
She was interrupted in her reciting as a shadow suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder. A cold voice said, "As pretty as that was, there is a substantial penalty for students caught wandering outside of the school after curfew. Fifty points from your house—whichever you belong to—and I expect to see you in my office tomorrow for detention, whoever you are."
"Unhand me, sir," she said, peeved. "It is perhaps very fortunate that I am no student."
"Ah, Professor Gaerwing. Forgive me—I did not recognize you without that ridiculous hat."
"My hat is none of your business to criticize, Professor Snape," she said. "I might just as easily make such comments about your hair. Tell me, Professor, do you ever wash it? Or perhaps you simply coat it with bacon grease every morning, or blacken it with shoe polish." She wouldn't normally have been so harsh, but that hat had been a gift to her from her husband—his last gift to her, in fact, before he died.
"What I do with my hair is not your business, either," came the hard reply. "In any event, Professor, I do believe that you should not be out here. All manner of wild, dark things roam in the light of the full moon. They are quite dangerous and will kill you if they can."
"The dark things hold no fear for me, Professor," Geillis said.
Snape sneered. "Perhaps you are more witless than I had thought."
"You may believe me to be as witless as you will, Professor Snape, but the simple truth is that I have no reason to care." She spun around on her heel and swept away.
***
Snape stared after her as she departed. No reason to care? Why did she not care whether she lived or died? What manner of secret did she have that made her so heedless?
He shrugged. No matter. If she chose to be a fool, he would not stop her. He hoped, however, that she would spare Dumbledore the inconvenience of needing to find another teacher of Songspells.
A/N: Sorry I got so overly poetic in my description of the sky. When it comes to the light of the stars, I can't help but overdo it even if I try to be prosaic.
I admit unashamedly that I wrote this scene simply to use "The Highwayman". It's one of my favourite poems. Still, I think I may have managed to get a little bit more of Geillis' character to show.