Chapter Twenty
Rose holed up in her flat for the remainder of the week after the solstice, as well as the entirety of the following work week. She only ventured out once to retrieve groceries so that she could stay isolated for longer.
Ella tried to contact her, sending notes via owl, and even rapping on her door a few times before giving up. Rose was thankful that Severus hadn't attempted to contact her; she had felt sure that he would stoop to sending Onyx to do his bidding.
She spent most of her time in bed dozing or listening to records, and occasionally taking exceptionally long, hot showers that scalded her back.
She felt guilty. Guilty for trusting someone who had inflicted so much pain upon others, for trusting someone who had morphed his inner turmoil and pain into its most terrifying form — hatred.
How could she have been so foolish?
"Oh, yeah, I'll help him, I can change him," she told herself. She licked her lips, salty from her tears. "What a fucking idiot."
Her face was swollen and blotchy pink for days, her head aching from crying. Just when she thought she was cried out, she discovered she really wasn't.
She reached a point where she really thought it was, after all, time to quit. "How can I even work with him?" She whispered to herself in the dark, her arms wrapped around her knees, the dimness of the night feeling suddenly more claustrophobic and chilling.
That weekend, she heard a rap on her door in the 'Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits' cadence.
Weird. Ella and Ximena don't do that, Rose thought.
She shuffled to her door and looked through the peephole. Headmaster Dumbledore was at her door, draped in rich green robes embroidered with paisley patterns.
Rose flinched, stumbling backwards as if she had been struck.
What do I do? What do I do?
She glanced at her clothes: sweatpants and a sweatshirt, stained and still slightly damp from tears.
Dumbledore rapped again.
She was resigned. She couldn't ignore the Headmaster, regardless of what she was wearing; that would be ridiculous.
She unlatched the lock, opening the door.
Dumbledore didn't seem surprised by her appearance. "Ah, Rose. Please pardon the intrusion. I was alerted by some of your colleagues that you've been absent for some time. Consider this a wellness check." He smiled warmly.
"Thank you, Headmaster, I've just been a little … under the weather."
Dumbledore didn't seem convinced, but was good at playing along. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Would you feel well enough to join me for a stroll through the grounds? I find that the best remedy for feeling poorly is fresh summer air."
How can I say no?
"Of course, Headmaster. Let me change quickly and I'll join you in a minute."
-o-o-o-
Rose trailed after Dumbledore, feeling exceedingly foolish. He walked at a far faster pace than Rose, even if she wasn't feeling downtrodden.
He walked them quickly to the edge of Loch Lake, finally pausing at the shore. He interlocked his hands, holding them behind his back, and gazed pensively at the murky lake, foggy in the early evening light.
For someone who had barely interacted with Dumbledore, all of this felt sudden and blaringly targeted.
"Er … sorry to be so blunt, but why did you bring me here, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore gazed at the water serenely. "Usually there are at least three different groups of swans and their signets, but here I can count five! I do wonder what makes one summer better than the next."
Rose nodded slowly, studying the downy gray fluffs as they followed their more elegant parents about the lake, dipping their bills into the water every now and then.
He turned to her, prodding gently, "I brought you here to inquire about your summer."
"It's going well, save for a few hiccups," Rose answered robotically.
Dumbledore nodded sagely. "There are always hiccups with Severus."
Rose froze, feeling her stomach churn with nerves. She nodded, attempting to not let anything on.
"You've made quite an impression. He speaks very highly of you."
Rose nodded, trying to play along. "I've learned a lot from him."
There's no way he knows, right?
"I do wonder … how much you have learned from him."
Rose felt the marked 'X' on her chest tingle, acting almost as a warning.
"Why do you trust him?" Rose asked bluntly. She let out a small undetectable gasp, shocked at her own cutting question.
She felt Dumbledore turn to her. "Ah. A lot, it seems."
He didn't know. He was baiting me, and I took it.
Rose crossed her arms over her chest, feeling chilled. She wasn't sure how to read Dumbledore; would he be upset that she knew? She would be, if someone with as important of a role as Severus' blabbed to a witch he barely knew. She knew Dumbledore's exterior to be kind and comforting, but she also knew he had his hands in too many serious disputes of consequence to be a kindly wizard, and, for that matter, was too cunning to be one.
When it became clear that Rose wasn't going to say more, Dumbledore replied. "He is loyal beyond comprehend. His word is true." He paused. "And I believe in second chances. Look at Fawkes! He is my companion in this mission." He smiled gently at Rose, and she allowed herself to exhale.
He considered her for a moment. "It takes a particular character to admit one's horrific past actions, then devote their life to remedying them."
Rose nodded, inclining her head.
Does he know what happened between us? Is he Severus' fucking wingman?
Dumbledore unclasped his hands suddenly. "Well! Let's stroll the lakeside, shall we? Maybe we'll be lucky enough to stumble upon a mermaid scale or trinket."
-o-o-o-
Rose finally emerged from her flat that weekend, apologizing for disappearing again. Ximena advised that maybe Rose and Severus weren't a good fit, after all, and maybe they should remain professional. Rose heartily agreed.
The three of them joined Oisin, Katie, and Damon at The Three Broomsticks Inn Friday and Saturday night. Rose was so drunk both nights that she couldn't remember getting home. Ximena informed her that she kissed two different strangers, danced most of both nights, cried a little bit, and on Saturday Ella and Ximena had to hold her back from knocking down Severus' flat door.
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Rose welcomed the next week. She joined Damon in the library to study lesson plans together. She was thankful to have some company, finding it much more distracting and comforting than being isolated in her flat.
Early Wednesday morning, Rose was preparing a mug of black tea when she heard a faint tap. She glanced around the room, spotting Onyx peering in at her from the kitchen window. She unlatched the window, retrieving the note from Onyx. Instead of waiting for a response or a treat, he hopped back out of the window, headed towards the owlery.
Rose glanced at the rising sun, still low on the horizon. "Past your bedtime, I suppose," she laughed to herself. "Poor Onyx."
She steeled herself, her stomach flipping at the sight of her name etched in Severus' handwriting on the folded note. She took a deep breath, then read the note:
Rose,
I told you I would respect your space, but I can't.
I don't want that to be our last conversation.
Please. One more conversation.
S
The note's tone was far more pleading than she had ever heard or seen Severus be. She blinked, rereading the note over and over.
One more conversation. Fine. Then, Rose would set a clear boundary: no interactions until the school year.
-o-o-o-
Rose's boots clacked loudly against the stone steps on her way into the Dungeons. She had been split between wearing a nonchalant outfit and wearing an outfit to make Severus wish for different circumstances. She chose the latter: a slim light pink dress that hugged her curves with sleeves that fell from her shoulders dramatically. Her knee-high white leather boots announced her presence in the echoing corridor. Her typical velvet cloak hung around her shoulders, shushing as she approached Severus' office.
The door was already open, and Severus sat behind his desk, his head in his hands. He startled when he heard her approach, knocking his knee into his desk in a clumsy attempt to rise.
He looked terrible — his greasy hair hung in thin clumps and the dark circles under his eyes were a deeper shade of purple. His robes were wrinkled and appeared unwashed.
Not that Rose could say she was pristine, either; if it hadn't been for makeup, her dark circles were just as dark as his. Even with makeup, her eyes and nose still appeared slightly swollen from crying.
Rose sighed. "Well. I'm here."
Severus exhaled, and Rose realized he had been holding his breath. "Yes," was all he said.
Rose walked in carefully and perched on the leather chair across from his desk. "What do you want, Severus?"
He blinked, as if startling from a daydream. He sat, pulling his chair closer to his desk. "I wanted to see you."
"Take a good look," she answered wryly.
"I didn't … mean for this happen," he said, speaking with partially clenched teeth, as if in pain. "I tried … I tried so many times to end this."
Rose scoffed. "Pretty poetry. What other romantic sentiments do you have for me?"
Severus' brows creased. "Let me finish, Rose," he bit out. "I told you I didn't deserve you and I never would. You didn't believe me."
Rose crossed her legs, shifting uncomfortably.
"I love you, Rose. Please don't leave Hogwarts. I'll do anything — I'll stay as far away from you as possible. Don't leave." He gazed at her fixedly before dropping his gaze to his hands.
Rose felt an ache that she couldn't pinpoint. How long had she waited to hear this from him, to hear that he was pushing her away on purpose? That really, he loved her as she loved him.
But what could it be now? How could she forgive him, trust him? How could she be with someone who had a darker, complex side that she didn't understand, and maybe never could understand?
She thought of Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. She had seen a transformation in Severus; when he was with her, he bloomed, he shone. What if that could be his future with her? And would she be okay with not knowing what it could have become?
Rose stood shakily, walking around the desk and standing before him. He watched her, frozen with wide eyes.
She took his face in her hands gingerly. He relaxed instantly, closing his eyes and melting into her touch.
"I love you, too," she whispered.
He smiled, his eyes still shut.
"No more lies. No secrets."
"Yes," he whispered, moving his head closer to hers. "I swear it."
She moved closer to him, her lips a hair's breadth from his.
"My Severus," she whispered, her eyes half-lidded.
"My Rose, my summer solstice," he finished, closing the distance between them.