Chapter 2: An Omen of Things to Come?
So a week later Rosie was to be found outside Severus Snape's small mid-terrace on a quiet road near London. There was a fairly long, unkempt-looking front garden with a path that lead up to the black front door. Rosie picked up her suitcase (which was only light due to a charm she had placed on it moments before) and headed to the door. When she got there she dropped the suitcase to the floor and heard something smash.
"Oh, shit!" Rosie exclaimed. She bent down to have a look at the case, to try and work out what had broken. "Ah well, probably nothing." She raised her hand to the door and knocked. For some reason she was nervous. Maybe it was excitement. Maybe it was because she'd never met this man before. Maybe you're a complete idiot Rose.
The door opened and Rosie looked up and saw her housemate-to-be. She stared, not what she had thought at all. She'd imagined a bald guy with dark jacket and a smug look on his face – she didn't know why, perhaps it was her Crystal Maze fantasy.
Instead what she saw was a tallish, thin man with long black hair ('Bit of a rebel are we?' Rosie thought) with a stern look on his face. He looked older than he probably was in Rosie's opinion and although Severus totally disagreed, Rosie thought that his face wasn't an ugly one. Unusual perhaps but strangely attractive.
Rosie's eyes travelled down his body and saw that he was wearing Muggle clothes, a black shirt tucked into a black pair of trousers with a leather belt with a silver fastening. (Very fashionable, Mr. Snape.) He had black shoes on – or were they boots? Rosie's would have to ask him that.
"Hey there! You must be Sev?" she extended her hand to him which he took hesitantly.
"Severus, yes. Come in. Make yourself at home,"he said rather sarcastically, then he turned on his heel and left her standing at the door on her own.
That was nice of you, Rosie thought bitterly. She sighed and picked up her bags leaving them in the hall. Then she went back to her car and got out her other things – boxes of books and CDs, a radio, extra clothes, photos, her cats and brought them gradually up to the house.
When she had brought everything into the house she looked around. The house was small but very nice. There was a narrow hallway in the middle of the house, at the end of which was a flight of stairs that lead up to the bedrooms and bathroom. Off the hall was a lounge (to her left) and a kitchen (to her right). However there was something bugging Rosie, what was it – ah, yes.
My bloody stuffs still in the hallway! Rosie exclaimed vehemently to herself. Would it kill him to help me take my stuff upstairs? It's not like I'm asking him to wash, dry and iron my clothes or anything.
She walked into the kitchen and there he was sitting at a table, drinking from a mug. He looked up at her as she came in, he was unsmiling.
"You couldn't give me a hand lugging this lots up the stairs could you?" she asked. Best to give him a chance. Don't want to get off on a bad start, I have to live with him for God's sake. Maybe he's got a bad back or something.
"I deemed that you would be capable enough to carry your own luggage."
"You deemed me – what the hell are you talking about? Just give me hand will you?"
"I thought I made myself plain on the matter," he said smoothly.
Rosie didn't understand why he was being like this, granted she didn't know him at all but she thought that a little common courtesy wouldn't have gone astray. How hard could it possibly be to help someone?
"Look for God's sake – fine, I'm not asking you to help me-"
"Good."
"I'm telling you. Just get off your backside and help me up the stairs." She picked up a small box and lobbed it at him; he caught it looking slightly surprised. For a moment Rosie thought that he would refuse but then he got up and moved round the table.
Relieved Rosie stepped back into the hall and began to pile boxes into his arms and carry her own luggage up into her bedroom.
After a few hours of packing things away in drawers and putting things on shelves Rosie became bored and decided to go back downstairs. Admittedly the prospect of facing Severus again was not an inviting one; Rosie had that ominous feeling in her stomach – the feeling that came every time she realised what a crap decision she had just made.
She walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the table again. He was drinking a cup of tea and when he saw her he asked brusquely:
"Do you want a tea?"
"Erm, yeah thanks. Milk and sugar please." She sat down and looked on a table, there was a book open: 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis'
"That's my book!" she exclaimed suddenly.
"Yes," said Snape sitting down opposite her and passing her a mug. "I opened the box that you tried to decapitate me with. I always liked the book as a child, I remember checking my wardrobe after I'd read, trying to find a way to escape from home."
"You Muggle-born then?" Rosie asked, when he raised an eyebrow she continued. "You're wearing Muggle clothes, you live in a Muggle street, read Muggle books, do I need to carry on?"
"No. To both. I'm from a pureblood line actually. My mother was quite fond of Muggle literature. I just picked it up."
"What house were you in?"
His lips curled in a sneer, "Slytherin."
Rosie nearly spat out her tea. "Slytherin. Yeah, just a bit pureblood. I thought you were all anti-Muggle. How come you live here of all places then?"
"There aren't that many all-Wizard towns and at any rate, it prevents unwanted visitors, nobody would think to look for me here."
"Mmm. Sociable chap aren't you?" Rosie said with a smile. He fell silent. Rosie continued, "So how come you don't live here all year round?"
"I teach."
"At Hogwarts?"
"No, Azkaban," Rosie raised her eyebrows, he smirked. "Well, if you will ask a stupid question. I teach potions, I'm Head of Slytherin house." Rosie suddenly realised what Mrs. Smith had meant, he'd be an absolutely awful teacher! Though, Rosie could see him hovering in the shadows of the cold dungeons, there was something quite Vampiresque about him.
"I could see you being a potions Master, it'd suit. Bet the kids are terrified!"
"Yes, actually!" Rosie could sense that he was relaxing around her. He began to talk about the students and how there was one student called Neville Longbottom oh, and this complete bastard...
They talked for hours about pretty much everything. Rosie had filled him in about her family, her mother, father, pets. She'd told him about her complete lack of organisation and untidiness. He blanched at this point, saying:
"You will look after the house when I'm at Hogwarts won't you?"
"Of course I will, I'm not a total failure."
"Just a wanna be, eh?" he said with a smirk.
"Okay, Mr Perfect – tell me about your life then!"
"Fine. My name's Severus Perfect, I-" he was cut short by Rosie slapping him on the arm.
"Oh, shut up Severus!"
They carried on chatting and Severus became more and more relaxed. He even offered to cook them dinner. Although he didn't say anything Rosie deduced that it might be his way of apologising for his less than friendly behaviour this morning – though Rosie could also see that his generosity might have had something to do with the fact that she had mentioned how she had ruined Baked Beans.
At about 10 o'clock Rosie decided to go to bed, it had been a long day and she was exhausted. She got up and walked to the door of the living room – they had moved there because Rosie had decided that the kitchen was a terrible place for a chat. As she walked out of the door she turned and said:
"When do you usually go to bed?"
"I usually retire at about 12," he said checking his watch.
Rosie raised a mocking eyebrow, "Retire do we?" she laughed. "What time do you get up?"
"About five."
"Five!" she exclaimed. "What the hell! You sleep for five hours! My God! You're insane. Guess it fits though – you look like the walking dead."
"Thank you very much."
"It wasn't an insult," Rosie said softly.
"I fail to see how it was a compliment," he said dryly.
Rosie laughed, "Ha ha, you know what I mean – well, no you probably don't. You don't look bad you know Sev, just-"
"Hilarious?" he prompted. "Ugly?"
"What? No, not really. I had a boyfriend once with long brown hair and this really big nose. He was lovely – until he dumped me for this tart in Coventry. Ah well, life eh?"
"The point of the story?" he enquired.
"None I suppose. He had a nice nose. So do you – nicer than his though."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm hardly attractive."
"You're hardly ugly," she said with a smile. "You know, the more I look at you the more I see that I like. You're an individual – that's good," his lip curled and she added: "You've got a wicked sense of humour."
"They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," he stated dully.
Rosie looked at him for a moment, her head tilted to one said. "Yeah, perhaps. Funniest though. Night Sev."
She left the room and plodded up the stairs leaving a silent, stunned, but happy Severus Snape in her wake.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they mean a lot. If you read, please review!
