Chapter 15

The next few weeks passed quickly, and Rosemary found herself receiving more and more gifts from her secret admirer. Poetry, chocolates, even a cheap gold bracelet. The bracelet was what cinched it for her; she knew she was definitely looking at a student for this. It wasn't, however, until the flowers started to arrive that she made the connection. They were gorgeous, and all of them very exotic—orchids, hibiscuses, and tiger lilies to name a few. Suddenly all of the shy smiles and blushes began to make sense, and she realized that Neville had mistaken her kindhearted nature to be encouragement of the romantic sort. She resolved to discuss it with him that evening when he arrived for their lesson.

"You really should leave," complained Rosemary between kisses. "Neville will be here soon."

"Are you going to speak to the boy?" His lips found hers once more as his hand slid cautiously to her waist.

"Yes," said Rosemary, pulling back just a little, "and it wouldn't do for him to walk in and see us snogging like teenagers."

"Hmph," was his only reply.

Try as she might, Rosemary could not bring herself to push him away. His lips just felt so good against hers, and he was doing the most wonderful things with his tongue…

The sudden loud squeal of old hinges and the groaning of ancient wood pierced the air more surely than a centaur's arrow. Rosemary pulled away just in time to see Neville hovering in the doorway. His heartbroken expression tore at her.

"Neville—"

"No," he said tearfully. "No!" He threw down the bunch of flowers he'd been holding and ran out of the room.

Rosemary threw an exasperated look at Severus. "Meet me in my chambers," she called as she ran after Neville.

Brushing past confused students, Rosemary looked around desperately for him, but did not see his small round figure anywhere. She scoured corridor after corridor looking for any sign of him, but found none. Finally, after an exhaustive search, she made her way back to her chambers.

Severus was waiting for her when she returned. There was a fire dancing in the grate, crackling and popping a joyful tune, as if nothing in the world was wrong. He was sitting in the old leather arm chair that he favored, hands folded neatly in his lap as he stared into the amber flames. He did not look up when she entered the room.

"You did not find him, I presume?" he asked quietly.

"No," sighed Rosemary, sitting down across from him, "and I'm quite certain that by tomorrow, the entire school will have heard everything."

"And how do you propose that we proceed?"

"This isn't some riddle that needs solving, Severus," she snapped irritably. "Both of our reputations are at stake here. If you weren't too busy trying to distance yourself from everything, you might actually see that."

He did not respond; instead, he rose silently to his feet and began walking toward the door.

"Wait," she said, grabbing his hand. "Please don't leave."

"I will not stay where I am not wanted," he said icily.

"I'm sorry," Rosemary apologized. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Things are just much more complicated now; fraternization among the staff will not be taken lightly by the parents, or the governors for that matter—not to mention just how vicious the students will be. Are you really prepared to deal with all of that?" When he remained silent, she stood up and retreated into the circle of his arms (as rigid and stiff as it might be).

"What do you propose?" he asked at long last.

"I'll send a letter to the headmaster in the morning and explain everything. I'll resign my post, and you'll keep your job. Simple as that."

"Lucius Malfoy will demand both our jobs, if only to save face."

"To hell with Lucius Malfoy," she mumbled. "Dumbledore will never let you go—you're far too valuable a teacher."

"And what of you?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

"I'll stay in Hogsmeade until the year is over. If I'm no longer a teacher, then fraternizing with me won't be a problem." She smiled against his chest. "Always a silver lining… Stay with me?" she added softly. "Just for a while?"

Against his better judgment, he agreed. She put on the old gramophone, and sat down next to him on the tiny loveseat that sat against the far wall. She curled against him comfortably, almost laughing as he tried to adjust himself to the idea of intimacy (it was not one that he was overly familiar with, after all). As the old jazz wound its way around the room, she fell asleep, her head pillowed against his chest, hands resting heavily on his thigh; and while she slept, he wondered idly what lay in store for tomorrow.