Chapter 8
The sun had set and darkness had fallen with the swiftness of winter; outside it was snowing gently, a final layer of powder tumbling down to join the ice. Severus was sitting quietly at the small table in his chambers, reading through his lesson plans. The students would be returning just after New Year's, and, looking over his plans, he decided to make a few changes to his curriculum—anything that would keep his mind away from thoughts of Rose. This had become an increasingly difficult task ever since the evening of the dance. Something was different between them, and he wasn't sure that he liked that.
As his candle waned lower and lower in its holder, he was startled from his work by a soft, yet insistent knock at his door.
"Enter," he called irritably, annoyed by the disturbance. He was not surprised when a small, wrinkled house elf toddled into the room and cautiously approached his desk. "What is it?" he grumbled.
The tiny elf held out a small scroll of parchment. "For you sir," he said bowing low and offering him the bit of paper. Severus took the message and dismissed the elf in the same acerbic tone he always seemed to use. His eyes skimmed across the scripted lines of text, and his curiosity peaked.
Meet me in the front hall in one hour; bring your cloak; don't be late.
R.
oo
Exactly one hour later Severus strode into the front hall, silence his only companion as true night tolled. Rosemary was waiting for him by the door, wrapped in a beautiful emerald cloak and scarf, a heavy wool blanket in her arms. A delicate silver embroidery glittered along the edges of the fabric, drawing the eye with its subtle shine. She smiled at him as he approached, her eyes shining delightedly in the candlelight.
Severus approached her warily, unsure of what to expect.
"I'm so pleased that you came," said Rosemary, her voice held both the warm familiarity of their friendship and something new, something almost…shy…
"Your letter was…unexpected," he said finally.
"I know, but there is something that I would like to show you," she explained. "Will you come with me?"
Severus considered her request, turning it over in his mind. He gave a short nod of agreement, and followed silently as she went outside. It was still snowing, delicate flakes falling like a soft, touchable sort of magic that slid against the body in the gentlest of caresses. Hagrid's hut swelled into view like the frosted gingerbread house of Hansel and Gretel; the pumpkin patch was frozen underneath so much snow, tiny mountains of sparkling white.
They had been walking for at least ten minutes, a companionable silence stretching between the two of them. Rosemary walked along beside him, quiet as she led the way. A few minutes later she stopped and inspected the bit of ground that lay before them.
"This will do fine," she murmured. She unfolded the large blanket she had been carrying and stretched it out on top of the snow. Severus watched, somewhat intrigued as she laid down, her head pillowed atop one arm. His brows slid up questioningly as she patted the spot beside her. "Have a seat," she said.
Severus looked at her for a moment, wary of this strange behavior, but eventually sat down next to her. Rosemary smiled idly at him as she let the snowflakes tickle her face, melting just a split second later. Staring up at the cloudy sky and the parade of tumbling snowflakes, he spoke softly.
"My grandmother and I used to do this every Christmas Eve," she murmured. "We'd lie out in the garden for hours, just watching the stars and the snow…" Her eyes slid closed. "My mother always hated it—she was terrified that I would catch pneumonia, but I never did…"
Severus gazed at her, his eyes tracing the subtle curves of her figure as her cloak spilled out on either side of her tiny body. Her chest rose and fell steadily with each breath, as if she were simply asleep.
"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" she asked. "It's almost as if you breathe too hard, it will all just…blow away…"
"It is rather extraordinary," he agreed noncommittally.
Silence fell between them as the snow danced its way down around them; the air was full of it—crisp and clean as a winter's morn.
"Severus?" she asked suddenly, her eyes flying open.
"Yes?"
"About the Christmas party, I'm sorry if I made you…uncomfortable."
"You did not," he said coolly, pushing aside the mixed emotions that threatened to pull at him.
She stared at him, her mossy eyes intent upon tracing every line of his face. Slowly she sat up, looking away in embarrassment. When she spoke again her gaze was fixed on his lap, where his hands were neatly folded.
"Thank you—for the dance," she added shyly. "It was…." She smiled and flushed a rather endearing shade of pink as she explained. She touched his hand tentatively and looked up at him, her eyes betraying the innocence that dwelled within.
Suddenly the air around them was too warm, seemingly charged with a strange sort of electricity. Her hand slid down to his knee, resting there comfortably as if she touched him all the time. He met her emerald irises with his own twin pools of onyx and felt, rather than saw, her lean closer. She hesitated for a moment before slowly and deliberately brushing her lips ever so gently over his. When he didn't resist, they deepened the kiss, mouths exploring each other in the most basic of ways. His tongue slid along her perfect teeth and into her mouth with little hindrance. She tasted of virgin snow and winter, of fireplaces and books, of laughter and life.
It had been a very long time since he had last tasted a woman, and his body was very pleased with the way her hand slid up his chest and around his neck, the way that she pressed against him, so warm and tender—almost childlike—in his arms.
At last the kiss was broken and she leaned against him for a moment, her face buried in his neck. He hesitated but began to stroke her back soothingly, his long elegant fingers tracing up and down as if following the railroad tracks of her spine.
They sat together until they both could stand the cold no longer. Rising to their feet, he waited as she folded the blanket and then carried it as he escorted her back to her chambers. After a quick glance about the hallway, she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly goodnight.
"Pleasant dreams," she whispered sweetly, before closing the door.
He made his way back to the dungeons and returned to bed; and that night, when he slept, he found his dreams haunted by snowflakes.
