Merlin's Beard, it's been ages, hasn't it?
I suppose I owe all ya'll an apology—I really did not mean to put this off so long! This chapter (or should I say more accurately this chapter which will be the eternal death of me, which is alternatively titled In Which Noa Gives in to a Character Who's Story Never Actually was Written Part I) has been slowly composed over the last few months. The REALLY awkward thing is—it's not even done yet. So I'm going to have to break the oath I swore to constrain Rose to a three chapter arch. She's now managed to commandeer a four chapter slot. Then again, this is what I get for allowing a OC with a fully planned story to work her way into a non-OC based story... So I suppose I doomed myself.
In any case, I broke this chapter into two parts, as the total compiled is at around 7000 word and not finished. That'll put it at about a sixth of my total word count by the time I'm done—and trust me, I've had many an argument with a certain Miss Rose about this. So while this chapter is around 5000 words, the next should be back to around 3000, and should be up tonight or tomorrow, if I work at it.
And I truly am sorry for the delay, but I can still make no commitment to an update schedule. As much as I love writing this, maintaining a decent GPA so my colleges do not reject me after graduation is also fairly important.
Anyways, Happy Reading! As always, reviews are more than welcome
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Chapter Eleven: In Which Rose Really Does Remember Everything Part I
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"Mum?" asked the five-year-old boy as his parents slid into their traveling cloaks. "How long—How long will we be at Gran's, Mum?"
"Oh, it won't be too terribly long, Madison. Besides, Gran has a lovely old house. I'm sure you'll spend weeks just exploring the mansion before you get bored." The woman who spoke leaned down to ruffle the hair of the curious boy. It was black and loosely curly, just like hers, but where the child's hair was baby soft and wispy hers was long and silky. "Now I'll take Rose, and you'll take your suitcase, okay?"
"'Kay."
He tried to let go of the hand of the two-year-old girl who stood sleepily beside him, but their mother had to pry the toddler's fingers away from Madison's hand. When she finally pulled the girl away, the woman laughed down at the boy. "Rose loves you very much, Madison!" she said.
The toddler burst into tears in her mother's arms.
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Yet two years later saw the tiny girl latched onto her mother's cloak with the same ferocity she had gripped her brother's hand with. "Rose!" exclaimed the harried woman. "Really, can't I get inside the door without being set upon by leeches?"
"She rarely sees her mother; of course she would cling to you." This was the voice of an elderly lady, a retired widow of a witch who kept to herself and outside of the crossfire of politics and wars: Gran. "She hugs you all the more now to make up for all the time she's missed with you."
"That's bull shit, and you know it. Rose is only three, after all, and not exactly displaying any deep thoughts right now. Has Matt arrived?"
"Charlotte! Mind your tongue in front of your daughter! She's four, not three, and that's old enough to pick up on her mother's nasty habits. Matthew's in the kitchen with Madison. He got here nearly two days ago."
"Two days?" Rose's mother pushed the child away, limping down the hall to meet her husband.
"Rose, let your mother talk to your father for a bit, alright?" ordered Gran, halting the child in her path as she tried to chase after her mother. "She's been working quite hard to get here."
"Oh, may I please go into the kitchen with them?" piped the girl. "I will be quiet. I promise. I pinky promise!"
"Pinky promise?" repeated the elderly woman quizzically. "I dare say I do not wish to know where you picked up that term… but very well, you may go to them—but you must be quiet, you hear? And if your mother tells you to leave, you leave them be right away!"
"Yes, Gran!" said the child, but she was already halfway to the kitchen door.
In the well-lit, fire-warmed room Rose crawled up onto her father's lap, where he absent-mindedly stroked her hair. "The Order's man is coming here tonight," he said. "Someone will be coming to swear us into secrecy. If you want to back out, now's your last chance. We can still stop this, you know."
"And do what? Run off, get ourselves killed trying to leave the country?"
"Really, Char, take me seriously for a minute... You have friends that you are going against. Your whole family is—you're throwing away everything—"
"And you expect me to stand by when they killed Bolanda?" demanded the woman. "When we're wasting so much time spilling the Order's blood there's none left to deal with the real issue at hand?"
"The Order certainly won't be supporting in our ideology!"
"I don't care about that so much right now, anyways," said the woman as she finally sat at the dining table, a bowl of pumpkin soup before her. "They killed Bolanda. Nothing will be sweeter than my revenge."
"Mummy—what happened to Aunt 'Landa?" said Madison, coming through the doorway before Gran.
"Now, that is not for the children's ears, is it Charlotte?" said Gran, glaring at her daughter once again. "Let's take our soup to the dining room if your parents wish to speak of such things, Rose and Madison."
"Nonsense," said Charlotte. "They deserve to know as much as anyone. Come, Madi, sit by Mummy for a moment."
The children's father shifted Rose in his lap. "Char," he warned lightly, "They're only kids..."
"I see your two days with my mother has affected you," Charlotte snapped. The man shrugged, and she turned back to her son. "Now Madi here is a big boy, I'm sure he can handle the truth, right?"
"Yes, mum," said the seven year old, his feet dangling from his chair.
"When was the last time your Aunty Bolanda came to visit?" the woman asked, apparently satisfied.
"At my, at my... birthday, I think."
"Which you were absent from," cut in Gran.
"Don't be rude, mother. Madi knows his mummy is very busy." The woman paused, regarding her son. "Now Madi, I want you to understand completely: Your Aunty Bolanda is dead."
The boy stared back at her. "Dead?"
"Dead."
"But Aunty wasn't sick!" said Rose, making the adults sigh at the four year old. She was not even supposed to be able to understand this, at her age, let alone make reasonable contributions to discussion.
"No, Rose," said her father. "Bolanda was not sick at all."
"Why?" Madi demanded of his mother. "Why is Aunty...?"
"She was killed. Killed in cold blood by the Dark Lord."
The boy stared at her. "Killed?"
"Yes, my love, killed." She set down her spoon, seeming to have lost her appetite. "You see, Aunty Bolanda once befriended an enemy of the Dark Lord. That friend was captured and Aunt Bolanda was to—"
"Char," said Matthew softly.
She glanced at him in annoyance, but seemed to reconsider what she was saying.
"Your Aunty Bolanda helped her friend escape," she tried again. "And the Dark Lord was less than happy about that, so he sent her on a mission that she couldn't possibly succeed at. But when she came back to the Dark Lord unsuccessful he was waiting to call her traitor, and so she was executed."
"What's exe—exe—exeputid?" Rose asked, tripping over that word.
"Charlotte, this conversation has gone on long enough!" Gran snapped. "You're in my house, and I say that the children need not—"
"They're not your children, Mothe—"
The women's snapping was cut short by a booming knock at the front door. The kitchen fell into silence as its five inhabitants hesitated, none knowing what to do, until the knocking sounded again and Charlotte said softly, "That'll be the men from the Order, then." She glanced half-heartedly at Matthew, only to sweep out of the room.
Gran broke the silence for a moment as her daughter hurried down the hallway. "Give me Rose, Matthew; I'll take them upstairs."
But this time Matthew shook his head, a bit sadly. He picked lifted Rose off his lap and onto the chair beside him, where she sat cross-legged to prop herself up a little higher. "The kids haven't had any soup yet, have they, Florette? They look like they could use it." He met Gran's skeptical glare calmly. "Besides, Rose will never remember this, will she? And I'd rather they remember this of us, before anything too out of control happens."
Gran raised her hands up into the air in exasperation, but the sound of the door opening to the night and voices speaking hurriedly made the woman merely sigh and go to dish out the soup. The voices down the hall quieted. Then came the footsteps, carrying whoever had come calling towards the kitchen. Rose twisted around in her new seat so she could see the dark doorway.
The man who stood at it was hesitating in the shadows. Though pale, he was dressed all in black, so he seemed to blend into the shadows, and his beady black eyes darted about the fire-lit room suspiciously. "Severus!" Matthew suddenly exclaimed, starting up out of his seat. "You're the one—" His words were cut short, however, by another figure—a broad-shouldered man who stood a full head higher than the first—rounding the doorway and pushing past the pale man, boldly stepping into the kitchen and staring Matthew down. "Nicolai Vector," Matthew hissed. "I might've known they'd send you."
"Trust me," Vector growled back. "If I weren't sworn to this duty, I'd have you spirited away to Azkaban before you could blink."
Suddenly a bowl of hot soup was set with a thud on the table before Rose, drawing everyone's attention to Gran. "Vector," she greeted rather calmly.
"Madam Hawthorne," said the man in minor surprise, watching the woman bring a second bowl to Madison. His voice was no longer hostile. "Always a pleasure."
"Indeed. How is your father doing?"
"He's in America, actually." The large man shrugged slightly at this. "Has connections in the Salem Witch Academy, apparently, though I can't say their hospital provides as well for him as Saint Mungo's could. But I am glad he is keeping out of the fray, aren't I?"
"Then give him regards the next time you speak to him, will you?"
"I will."
"Though I would not have you reporting my inhospitality… a bowl of soup would be nice after your travels, wouldn't it?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, Madam," Vector said a bit stiffly. His gaze fell back to Matthew, who, although settled back into his seat, had not stopped his glare. "I am hoping to get on with this as quickly as possible."
Charlotte appeared, urging the slighter man, Severus, through the door. "Please, take a seat, both of you," she urged, resuming her own place at the far end from her husband, leaving the two guests the seats on the interior side of the table, facing the door. Gran silently slid into the space between Madison and Rose, watching Vector and Severus as they took the places beside Charlotte and Matthew, respectively.
Rose found the pale man staring at her, and returned the look fearlessly. He was a strange-looking creature, with his many-layered robes and greasy black hair pulled into a pony tail. His nose was a bit large, and his eyes deep-set, making it seem even larger, and at the slightest disturbance—Vector pulling a scroll from within his robes—he nearly sprang out of his seat, only to regain his composure.
The scroll that Vector had withdrawn from his robes rolled out neatly in front of him. As best Rose could see, it was completely blank, and the man seemed to disregard it in favor of talking, much to the child's disappointment. "So," he said simply, studying first Charlotte, then Matthew. "We are here today because the Order had decided that it can best make use of you by linking the three of you together." Matthew was giving Severus a questioning look, which went unanswered as the man stared pointedly at the blank scroll. "What this means," Vector continued, "Is that you will be confidants of any information necessary. To bind you to each other means that you have as little direct involvement with the Order as possible. It also means that the three of you will be able to aid each other in whatever ways you might, should a situation arise. We have many other confidant pacts within the lower levels of the Death Eaters, you can be sure."
"So we will not be bound to Dumbledore?" Charlotte demanded. "I was under the impression—"
Vector cut her off. "Dumbledore seems to think that Severus' binding to him will be more than enough to keep the pair of you in line as well," he growled. The comment drew a gasp out of Charlotte, but he carried on. "Though I have my doubts. Give me a reason, and I will carry out vengeance like you were bound to me."
The couple at the table's ends remained silent, their eyes on the pale man, which Vector seemed satisfied with. He withdrew his wand from the sleeve of his traveling cloak, and placed its tip on the blank scroll. With practiced motions he drew it across the parchment, although it was not the motion itself that had Rose straightening up. His wand left a black trail in its wake, and that blackness spread across like ink seeping into a wet page—only, peering closer Rose could see that it was twisting into some sort of scripted chain that she, at four years old, had not read. When Vector was done, he sheathed his wand again, looking up at Gran. "Will you be the witness for your family, Madam Hawthorne?"
"Let me ask this first," she said quietly. "What protection will the Order offer my grandchildren? Me? From how Charlotte described the situation to me, she'd need the mansion as a safe-house, of sorts, but I will not put my grandchildren into a situation where the Dark Lord's forces may come storming in on us at any minute!"
Vector sighed. "Of course not, Madam," he said calmly. "The Order will place every charm and enchantment it can on your home—and the choice of secret keeper will be left up to you. You-Know-Who will not find you here—if he could even determine where 'here' is."
"Then yes," said Gran, "If you can guarantee the safety of my grandchildren, then yes, I will play witness."
"Very well. And I, as representative of the Order, play witness for the Order, and in Dumbledore's stead play witness for Severus Snape." He did not need to show Gran how to press her hand into the center of the scroll—she did it like she'd done it a thousand times before. When Vector was satisfied he turned to Severus. "You first, then, Severus."
For the first time the strange man spoke. "I have already sworn myself to Dumbledore," he said in a low monotone. "Is this necessary?"
"It is."
His black eyes flashed for a moment, but again his glance darted to Rose, then Madison, and Severus nodded curtly.
"Very well, repeat after me. I, Severus Snape."
The man's sallow face grew stony. "I, Severus Snape."
"Do swear to treat these two as confidants and allies, to protect at the expense of my own safety their well-being, and will carry out the orders of the Order of the Phoenix to the best of my capabilities." The quiet man repeated it blandly, the sentence making the rings of script on the scroll ripple. "I will not betray the Order in the face of death to ensure my own safety. I will not betray my confidants."
When Severus was done, he turned to their mother―"I, Charlotte Hawthorne"―and repeated the oath. When he turned to their father, however he paused. "What name do you go by these days, anyways?"
Matthew glared at him. "I, Matthew Vaine," he said coldly, "Same as ever."
The two men tried to stare each other down for a minute, then finished the oath. "Now," said Vector, setting a seemingly ordinary quill on the ornate circle of script. "Your scrawl in the circle."
Rose craned her neck, trying to get a better look at the circle, but Gran nudged her firmly into her seat. Severus was the first to pick up the quill, and though there was no ink to fill it with, he set it to the parchment and signed it shortly. When he was done he dropped the quill and pulled back his hand, muttering something, but caught Rose staring at him again and let the excessive folds of his cloak sleeves cover his hand. Charlotte and Matthew repeated the process, but still Gran would not let Rose sit up to see better, and the couple let their robes fall over their hands just as Severus had done.
That was it. When Matthew finished signing, the rings of script seemed to ripple again, and then the blackness faded away, leaving the parchment as blank as it had been before. Nicolai quickly rolled it again and stashed it back into his cloak, and stood abruptly. "I hope I will not be seeing you again," he growled towards Matthew, but he nodded to Gran before rounding the table and hurrying out down the hall, the door slamming behind him.
At once the questions started. "You swore yourself to Dumbledore?" Matthew hissed as Charlotte demanded, "How on earth did you get yourself mixed up in this, Severus?" and Gran stood, saying, "I suppose you'd like a bowl of soup?"
Severus took the questions in order of importance. "Yes, please," he addressed Gran, who was quick to fix him with a bowl of steaming orange soup. He ignored it for a moment though as he pressed his thumb and index finger into the bridge of his nose then brushed a few stray hairs out of his face. "As for Dumbledore, well…" He trailed away, then distracted himself with his soup. Gran nudged her granddaughter as sat down.
"Eat yours, too, Rose."
Severus sighed after a few bites, tracing patterns in the thick soup's surface. "I hadn't expected it to be you, really," he said quietly. "When Vector showed up to collect me, I had considered my options. I thought perhaps… well, never mind that." He set down the spoon entirely, meeting Matthew's eyes. "Yes, I was sworn to that old fool. I am as locked into this as any, at this point."
"What did he do to trick you into that?" Charlotte demanded. "I swear the old man's as slippery as a Slytherin..."
Severus gave her a long look, his face twisting into a grimace. "It was Bolanda for you," he said dryly. Charlotte nodded emphatically.
"The Dark Lord has crossed too far over the line this time," she declared, effectively deflected. "I will not rest until my sister is avenged."
The dark man regarded her a moment longer, then turned back to Matthew. "And... your father?"
Matthew shrugged. "He was my step-father. Really, I'd follow Char if she followed Vector's—" he spat the name "—father to America. But my wife is stronger than that, you'll find."
Severus said nothing, scrutinizing the man. Then his look turned to Gran. "And what do you have to say of this? I had understood the Hawthorne line to be one of blood purity." Gran stared right back at him.
"All I ask is my grandchildren's protection," said the proud witch coolly. "From Bolanda's murder, we seem to have placed our faith in the wrong Lord to lead us. While I cannot say I approve of Dumbledore's ideas, if the Order can protect my grandchildren, then I will stand by my daughter's choice."
Black eyes flickered once more between Madison and Rose, who was staring at him again. When she realized she'd been caught, she frantically started wolfing down her soup.
"I can say that I have been ensured every possible safety for my own future," Severus said as he looked back to Gran. "And with this... binding that has been formed between us three, I would expect that that safety would be extended to you. If you do not trust Dumbledore to protect you fully, Madam Hawthorne, then I would extend an offer, in exchange for the intrusions on Hawthorne Manor that I will be carrying out in the days to come."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"Should Charlotte and Matthew ever fail—don't stop me, Charlotte, you should know what you've gotten into—should Charlotte and Matthew ever fail, I have an old house in muggle Cokeworth. The Dark Lord knows not of it, as I only recently bothered to investigate my inheritance, nor has the Order ever heard of it. It is small, and has not been kept, but is unknown and undetectable by any known means. I have secured it with every charm I know."
"That is most generous," Gran replied. "And will not go unnoted if you are in need to a favor from a house like Hawthorne."
"It is also unnecessary, isn't it?" Charlotte cut in. "You are more than welcome in Hawthorne Manor whenever necessary, I assure you, and you will always find my mother and children here. Your house will remain vacant, Severus, until you visit it yourself."
Rose slumped a bit in her seat, though none of the adults noticed it. She hated being confined to this manor all the time. Large as it was, half the doors were locked, and when Madison got bored with her she had no one to play with. When Severus had mentioned visiting his home—although it had taken the child a minute to understand that it was an invitation he had offered Gran—she had been excited by the prospect of new grounds to explore.
"So what was it, Severus?" Matthew asked. "Or should I say, who? Who did the Dark Lord kill?"
Severus hesitated. "No one, as of yet."
Charlotte shook her head. "You let Dumbledore get to you, didn't you?" she accused. "Even in school you always cared too much—Lucius and the others would always find some way to—"
"No, Charlotte," Severus cut in, even quieter than before. "It was I who approached Dumbledore, not the other way around. You see, I—"
The tolling of the grandfather clock that stood in the next room started the man out of his seat. His wand was out, and the other adults' were reaching for theirs as his chair clattered to the floor, but in the silence that followed it was Madison who had to ask, "What is it?"
"Your bedtime, that's what!" Gran declared. "Come now, Rose, you've stayed up long enough, haven't you?"
"But I want Mummy to put me to bed!" the girl piped. There was another brief silence as Gran turned to her daughter expectantly, only for the woman to wave her off sourly.
"Don't be silly," reprimanded Gran. Severus waved his seat back into its proper position. "You've bothered your parents more than enough for one evening, my dear! Now off to bed!"
Madison silently climbed down from the tall kitchen chair, and though Rose protested ardently her pleas fell on deaf ears. Matthew pulled the girl off her chair and into a quick embrace before placing her on the floor, and Gran took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and down the dark hell. Behind her she could hear her parents voices start up again, a murmuring that the girl would come to hear often when she sat at the top of the stairs late at night in months to come.
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"Florette!" the desperate voice hissed through the house. "Florette Hawthorne, your family is in danger!"
Rose had fallen out of her bed at the sound of the echoing voice, scared that Gran had discovered her reading by lamplight in her oversized bed, and it took her a minute before she realized what the voice had said. Danger? She wondered at that, peering around the shadows for any sign of a monster lurking in the corners, but she found nothing.
Then came the knocking. It was a pattern Rose knew by heart, though it was normally soft on the door and not shaking the walls of the great manor. Rose quickly blew out the lantern, leaving it on the floor where she'd fallen, and by moonlight scampered across the old floorboards light enough so that they did not creak. The lights in the foyer flared up, casting an orange glow through the crack under Rose's door, but she tugged at the handle none the less and tiptoed to the top of the stairs just in time to see Gran, her silver hair piled atop her head and her night robes poor protection from the cold, open the front door of Hawthorne Mansion.
"Severus!" she exclaimed, but the man swept past her into the entrance, slamming the door shut with a sweeping hand gesture behind him.
"Florette, we must make for Spinner's End," he hissed. "Are you packed? Are the children awake? Florette—has anyone come here tonight?"
"What nonsense are you on about, Severus!" Gran asked hastily. "What has happened?"
"There's no time—the children—" Severus started up the stairs, only to spot Rose trying to hide behind the banister. "Rose! Get your brother!"
Yet Madison was quickly behind her. "What is it?" he called back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, but Severus ignored him, too.
"Florette, the brooms!"
"They're in the cupboard by the back door, but-" Her protests were lost on the man as he swept past her. "To hell with it," she snapped. "Children! Go get dressed, as fast as you can!"
"What's going on, Gran?" Madison pleaded.
"Now, boy!"
Rose was already pulling her warmest sweater over her nightgown and slipping her feet into her boots, though something caught her eye in the moonlight-the book she'd been reading just before. She tucked it under her sweater before hurrying down to the landing, finding Gran already dressed for travel and once again snapping at Severus.
"Where's Charlotte, Severus?"
"There's no time, Florette, and I dare not speak it here—if they find me—" The man saw the girl approach and beckoned her over. "Rose will fly with me; you take Madison. And the appropriate charms, of course..." He drew his wand.
"And why can we not just apparate to your—Spinner's End, you said?"
"The Dark Lord has men within the ministry—they'd know if we were just apparate, and where we'd land—come here, Rose..."
When she drew closer Severus' wand darted out and struck her on the top of the head, but it was not pain that she felt but rather the slip of cool liquid from her scalp to her toes. She was not wet, no, but Rose had never felt a Disillusionment Charm's effects before, and exclaimed in minor surprise when she looked down to see her boots and skirt with a floorboard pattern over them.
"Severus—tell me where my daughter is!"
The man silently struck the still sleepy Madison as he'd struck Rose, though the boy was too tired to be as delighted as his sister by the charm's effects. He turned to Gran and tapped her a bit more delicately, but even as her face faded to match the paper on the walls behind her the determination did not fade from it.
"Charlotte and Matthew will not be joining us. For or their sake I hope it is because they are dead," the man growled. Rose didn't understand what he was saying, and was easily distracted as he spelled himself, layering his black cloak with projections of the wall of framed photos behind him. "Florette, I will explain as soon as I can, but now we must get to Spinner's end. I am known to be a friend of Charlotte and Matthew. My absence at their... my absence will not go unnoticed. Please, Florette. I promised Charlotte."
Without a word Gran grabbed Madison by the shoulder and slammed open the front door, leading the child out into the night. With a final wave of his wand Severus darkened the foyer and led Rose after her family.
Rose had never ridden on a broom before, but the man had them up in the sky so quickly she barely had time to realize they'd taken off before they were speeding towards a distant cluster of lights.
"Where are we going?" she tried to ask Severus, though her voice got lost in the wind and she had to shout it a second time for him to hear.
"My old house, in a muggle town," he said back. "It'll only be a half hour's flight!"
"Oh," said Rose. Severus' house—she wondered if it were anything like Hawthorne Manor, though remembered him describing it as small. She didn't mind small, so long as she could explore the muggle town. The book digging into her stomach gave her one other question—"Is there a library?"
"No!" He spoke straight into her ear so she could hear him. "But there are books from floor to ceiling!"
That seemed to satisfy Rose, and she stayed quiet for the remainder of the flight, though her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared down at the lights of a city on the banks of a black river far below them as they passed overhead.
Severus guided them to land in a shadowed alleyway between two series of brick row houses, Gran just behind him. "I'm too old for this!" the witch hissed as she dismounted, but Severus was already leading Rose to the main street. He peered about the corner, cautiously searching left and right before pulling the girl along down one, two—the third house on the left. It was a seemingly normal door, and Severus pulled a seemingly normal muggle key from his sleeve, turning it quickly in the lock so he could hastily pull his shivering entourage into the pitch-black hallway.
When the door clicked shut behind Gran, Rose heard Severus mutter, "Lumos!" and his wand lit the corridor with a pale silver glow. He had not exaggerated when he said there were books from floor to ceiling; they stood in tenacious piles along the walls, towering over Rose. But the man did not give her time to examine them; Madison had to push his sister down the short hall to keep up with him. They arrived inside just in time to see Severus shoot sparks into the fireplace, igniting the wood within into a crackling fire in seconds.
"Florette," he said, drawing something out of his cloak as he turned to face the woman in the doorway. He tossed it to her—a little black bag no larger than Rose's boot. "Everything you'll need is in there. I'll be back as soon as I can be. Don't leave the house until I return. I'll send a message to the Order if it becomes clear I cannot, but for now—" he pushed past her, opening the front door once again "—stay put!"