Chapter 7

Christmas is one of those innately magical times of year; even the muggles can sense that something different is in the air. The months of fall term had passed quickly and winter had descended upon the castle in a vicious blur of ice and snow. The unlikely friendship between the surly potions master and the school's newest teacher blossomed beautifully underneath the icicle decked eaves of Hogwarts. It was not uncommon to see the two of them walking across the grounds (even in the vilest of weather; indeed, Harry himself had witnessed Professor Grene playing in the vast puddles in the inner courtyard, something which had amused him to no end.) or strolling through the corridors, usually lost deep in each other's conversation.

Though potions lessons were still rather horrific, more and more of his students were becoming less and less afraid of him. It wasn't that he was any less harsh in his criticism or demanding in his lessons, he was simply…more human. Something had softened his diamond like edges almost imperceptibly. Noticeable or not, though, the change was there, if one chose to look close enough.

As the Christmas holidays drew closer and closer, the students grew more and more restless. Excitement was heavy in the air; almost as heavy as the dread that plagued those who still had exams left to complete. The castle itself was nearly bursting with holiday cheer. Mistletoe hung like aerial landmines in the air, waiting to seize and unwitting young fellow and draw him under for a quick snog. The great hall was flooded with the scent of pine as Hagrid lugged in the usual twelve trees. Yet all of this paled in comparison to the complete and total devotion of Rosemary to the spreading of holiday cheer. So taken was she with the coming holiday, that she took it upon herself to bake Christmas cookies for all of the teachers (much to the house elves dismay), and even made sure that each of her students received a stocking full of wonderful goodies. But the thing which won her the most favor was her organization of an informal Christmas celebration, to take place just before the students left for holiday.

It was as if a sort of Christmas fever had taken over the entire castle. Girls giggled and roved the hallway in ferocious packs, prowling for any boy unattached as of yet. Whispers of crushes and dates floated through dormitories and bathrooms alike. Indeed, the rumor-mill was operating at peak efficiency. The boys who were still single did their best to stick together and avoid these groups at all costs. They were being picked off one by one. Harry, Ron, and Seamus had received a half-dozen offers at least, and even Hermione had been singled out by a boy from Ravenclaw. Love was in the air, like an overly sweet, cloying perfume that befuddles the senses, Love…or at least lust.

Finally, after arduous weeks of studying and hours of tedious testing, the evening of the dance arrived. At seven o'clock on the dot, the band began it's first set and the students flooded the great hall. The usual house tables had been cleared away and a dance floor had been set up in its place. Surrounding it were clusters of smaller round tables, draped in emerald and mulberry linen, providing the intimacy of conversation and the seclusion of the shadows. The dance floor itself was crowded with eager young couples, floating along beneath the artificial snow that was tumbling down from the enchanted ceiling. The only light came from a number of strategically placed candles and lights that were draped around the Christmas trees, and even nestled inside the piney boughs. The entire room was practically glowing with red, green, and golden light.

All in all, Rosemary couldn't have been more pleased with her handiwork. She grinned as Dumbledore swept over to her and begged a dance. Laughing, she let him waltz her around the room, much to the amusement of the band, who was currently playing a jazzy sort of ballad. Dumbledore, however, seemed to be oblivious to both the style and the tempo, and enjoyed twirling his partner about. He was remarkably spry for an old man.

"Rosemary, my dear," he said cheerfully. "In my most esteemed opinion, I do believe that your party is a smashing success."

Rosemary smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "Thank you, headmaster."

"You are most welcome," he replied jovially. "And now, if you don't mind, I think I shall cut in on Professor McGonagall and Hagrid." Rosemary glanced over to the pair in mention, watching bemusedly as Hagrid tried desperately to muster up a bit of grace.

"We wouldn't want them to have all the fun, would we?" added Dumbledore, stopping at the edge of the dance floor.

"No, sir," chuckled Rosemary. He gave her a small bow and thanked her for the dance before gliding into the crowd, slipping in and out of the dancing couples until he reached his destination. Professor McGonagall was positively ecstatic when Dumbledore asked to cut in, and Hagrid gave a nod and a smile before leaving in search of a good stiff drink.

With her hands clasped behind her back, Rosemary watched as the party settled into its full swing. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Everyone that is, except for Severus… Rosemary frowned as she caught sight of him slipping out of the door. She strode after him, curious as to where he could be going.

She found him outside in one of the smaller courtyards. The music of the party strained to be heard, just barely audibly through the stone and glass that housed it. Snow fell gently in a sort of icy ballet, dusting the plants and benches with just a touch of powder. She moved to stand beside him, but the telltale click of her heels against the stone gave her away. He glanced at her, but remained silent, staring out at the arctic tundra that was winter at Hogwarts.

"If I didn't know better, Severus," she said quietly, "I would think that you are hiding out here."

"I'm afraid that I am not one much for parties," he admitted carefully.

"I know," she said with a quiet sigh.

Sensing her disappointment, he quickly added, "However, as parties go this one is quite…" He searched for an appropriate word. "…splendid."

Rosemary smiled up at him, for even in her heels she was still a great deal shorter than him, coming just barely to his shoulder. He looked down at her and felt his heart give a strange sort of flutter—the likes of which he had not felt in a very long time. She looked so beautiful…

The brilliant emerald of her sweater dew out the color in her eyes so that she looked soft and touchable. The deep chocolate of her skirt offset it perfectly, and with her curls pulled back, the perfect alabaster of her slender neck was exposed. In truth, she was breathtaking.

"Will you dance with me?" she asked softly.

He hated to do it; his mind warned him to say no, to explain that he, Severus Snape did not dance, and that in any case, they had no music. But he couldn't ignore the soft, mournful ballad that had slid around them; it was faint, and almost imperceptible, but it was there. Try as he might to reject her request, he found that he could not refuse her. He gave a tiny nod that earned him a warm smile and almost made the humiliation worth it—almost.

Rosemary took his hands in hers and placed them firmly around her waist, before curling into his arms and laying her head on his chest. The song slid about them, its tune slow and mournful as they swayed to the gentle rhythm that it offered. The snow swept about them like so much magic, like dancing inside a snow globe.

In a word it was…perfection.

All too soon the song was over, and they pulled apart, reluctance evident on Rosemary's face. Staring up into his dark, pensive eyes, she opened her mouth to speak, but found herself interrupted by the arrival of Neville Longbottom.

"Professor Grene!" he exclaimed happily. He came over to them and, with a shy look, asked, "Will you dance with me?"

Rosemary smiled at him. "Of course I will Neville." He grabbed her hand excitedly and began pulling her inside. She turned her head to offer some sort of silent apology to Severus, but found him striding away in the opposite direction. She deftly hid the hurt look that flashed across her face and followed Neville inside.