Falling Is Like This

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CHAPTER 3: CHANGE OF PLANS

Snape, too shocked to move, stood dumbly as Rosaline kissed him with as much passion as a 17 year old girl can muster. She felt him respond for one brief, shocking moment, his hands coming to rest tentatively on her shoulders.

Coming to his senses, he tightened his grip and roughly pushed her back, detaching her lips from his abruptly. Rosaline smiled brightly up at him, the Securus Serum running amok within her body.

Snape sighed in exasperation and strode quickly to his desk to retrieve the antidote. As he bent forward slightly to grab it, he froze, feeling a hand grabbing his posterior. Slowly straightening, and noting that the hand did not move, he turned and glowered dangerously down at the smiling Rosaline.

"Drink this," he snapped as he removed her hand, still on his bottom, and shoved the vial into her palm. Sighing petulantly at his less than welcoming response to her advances, Rosaline regarded him with an appraising look, a smirk on her face.

"What'll you give me if I do?" she purred.

Snape's face grew darker by the second, while, surprisingly, a faint flush rose in his sallow cheeks. "I won't have you expelled," he hissed, "how's that for a start? Now drink...the...bloody...potion." The last words were said so softly and slowly Rosaline had to strain to listen, but the venom and looming threat of immense violence hung so heavily on them that even in her altered state she felt it would be wise to obey.

Uncorking the bottle, she gave Snape one last pout before downing the liquid. She immediately coughed at the burning in her throat and grimaced; screwing her eyes shut in discomfort as the fire raced down her throat and invaded her stomach.

After a few moments, Rosaline opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. As the reality of what happened hit her, her face became bright red. Remembering Snape was still standing directly in front of her, the blush faded as quickly as it came, replaced with an interesting lack of colour.

"Well Miss Staunton...it appears your potion was strong enough after all," he said dryly, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I...oh gods...uh, Professor, I...," she attempted to formulate some sort of explanation, before wilting visibly. "Bloody hell," she muttered. Rosaline stared blankly at the floor and turned quickly, retreating towards the door as fast as she could while retaining some shred of dignity.

"Miss Staunton."

Rosaline stopped and, banishing any expression from her face, looked back at the Potions professor.

"I'd suggest you do your best you seek out a new object of affection," Snape drawled, a smirk, not wholly unkind, on his face, "this continued embarrassment while near me does not suit you."

Rosaline's eyes narrowed, and she glared at him.

"Believe me, Professor Snape, I have no affections for you whatsoever," she growled, and strode quickly from the classroom.

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Rosaline stormed into the Gryffindor common room, hurled her book bag into a corner and herself into an armchair.

Anne looked up from her homework in surprise, her expression changing to a mixture of confusion and dismay at Rosaline's dark expression. Before she had a chance to ask, Rosaline held up a hand. "Don't ask. Please."

Standing up again, Rosaline paced in front of the fire, her anger obvious. Anne watched her quietly, her dark brown eyes confused. Shaking her head, she went back to her homework, knowing better than to press her friend.

Having calmed her anger slightly, Rosaline retrieved her book bag and headed up to her dorm for yet another shower. Climbing the stairs quickly, she dropped the backpack on her bed and pulled her robe over her head, tossing it carelessly on the floor.

'The miserable bastard,' she fumed, 'why the hell did he make me try that bloody potion in the first place?! And how the hell did he know that found him attractive? Am I that obvious? Fuck. He smelt good...like rosemary...and something else...some kind of balm?'

Growling, Rosaline banished the thoughts as she stalked into the bathroom and stripped. She turned the shower on and regarded herself critically in the mirror as the water heated up.

'I'm not that repulsive, am I...?' she trailed off and snorted at her own folly. 'Silly girl. You're his student, and almost half his age. Of course he's not going to do anything with you, whether you're lovely or loathsome.' Chuckling at her alliteration, Rosaline stepped into the shower, sighing contentedly as the hot water ran over her.

One thought continued to play through her head, however, despite her best attempts to dispel it.

'He kissed me back, for that one second...why?'

Rosaline sighed and grabbed her shampoo.

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Rosaline smiled and stretched as she woke up. The past two months had been uneventful, and today was promising to be yet another good day. Ever since the fiasco in Potions, she and Snape had kept a very wide berth of each other. She simply had no desire, well no mental desire at least, to be anywhere near the man. As far as Rosaline was concerned he was a horrible git. The fact that he was darkly attractive and appealed to every one of her baser instincts -- such as the ones which wanted to tackle him and screw him seven ways from Sunday -- was something which only bothered her when she found herself daydreaming in class.

It was the end December. Exams were over, and the impending Christmas break always put the denizens of Hogwarts in good spirits -- Rosaline being no exception.

Throwing back her duvet, she allowed herself another luxurious stretch before she hopped out of bed and headed for the showers. Anne was still asleep, as were Amanda and Clarice, the only other residents of the 7th year Gryffindor girl's dorm.

Rosaline showered and primped quickly, then came out of the bathroom in her dressing gown to find Anne dragging herself out of bed.

"Morning, sunshine," she chirped, smiling innocently at the threatening look Anne shot her.

Rosaline dressed quickly, and, after waiting for Anne for 20 minutes, decided to head down to breakfast on her own. Humming tunelessly as she navigated the fickle staircases, she struggled to remember the dream she had had last night.

A frown crossed her face as images of being wrapped up in an impenetrable darkness, warm and intimate, surfaced in her mind. Slowing, Rosaline rummaged further into her memory, but all she could recall was a pleasant, comforting scent. Shrugging it off, she walked into the Great Hall, one of the first people to arrive.

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Rosaline poured herself a cup of black tea and drank it slowly, savouring the warmth which spread through her body. Spreading butter on a piece of toast, she took a preoccupied bite and stared into space.

'Rosemary and...something else. Where do I know that from?' she asked herself idly. It bothered her that she couldn't remember when it was clearly important. Taking an uninterested sip of her tea, Rosaline shivered as someone strode into the hall and towards the staff table, a faint waft of air teasing her hair. Glancing in the direction the person had went, she was unsurprised to see Snape sitting down in his customary place at the end of the table.

Rosaline sighed and allowed herself to watch him for a moment.

'He really isn't all that good looking. His features are too cruel. He'd be a hard man to love...' she mused, before sitting up straight in alarm. Love? What did that have to do with anything? She snorted in a disturbingly Snape-like manner and took a swig of tea, the hot liquid burning her tongue and effectively bringing her back to reality.

Rosaline finished her toast quickly, eager to get back to her common room and away from Snape. Daring a glance at the staff table again, she was shocked to realise Snape was watching her, his deep black eyes burning with some indefinite emotion. Struggling to breath, Rosaline stood up hastily, almost knocking over her chair, and walked quickly from the hall. After putting a few corridors between herself and those eyes, she collapsed against a wall and slid down to a sitting position.

"God dammit..." she muttered and glared at her shaking hands, "my own body is betraying me."

Clenching her hands into fists, she dug her nails deeply into her palms, wincing as they began to cut her skin.

'Strange,' she thought, 'how calming and centering pain can be.' Letting her hands drop to her sides, Rosaline sighed, her head falling forward to rest on her knees.

'This is so utterly ridiculous. He's just a man. A foul-tempered, arrogant, bitter, cruel man, who just happens to have the most elegant hands, the most magnetic eyes...oh bugger.'

Wearily she raised her head and lifted a hand to her face, scrutinizing the half circles of blood on her palm dispassionately. Though the cuts were small and healing already, Rosaline couldn't remember any other time she'd ever succeeded in drawing blood.

Climbing awkwardly to her feet, the weary girl walked slowly back towards Gryffindor Tower.

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Rosaline climbed through the portrait hole and collapsed into an empty armchair near the fire. A few of her housemates were spread around the room, talking animatedly about the upcoming break -- the train was leaving the following evening, after lunch. Rubbing the bridge of nose tiredly, Rosaline's eyes closed.

She couldn't wait to return to her family home in Ireland. She missed the gently rolling landscape which defined the center of her small country. The isolated location of her home and the seclusion it promised were foremost in her mind. The closest sign of civilization was the small Muggle town of Clonmellon, which had very little to offer in the way of population.

Anne and a few other Gryffindors clamoured through the portrait hole, interrupting Rosaline's reverie. As she sat down in a nearby chair, Anne passed a letter to the dark haired girl. Rosaline looked up at her in confusion.

"An owl dropped it on your usual place; I reckoned I might as well bring it up for you," Anne chuckled, "better that than leaving it behind for the house elves to use as clothing."

Rosaline smiled and opened the letter, only to curse loudly a moment later.

"Bugger! My bloody parents have to go away on Ministry business and I have to stay here over Christmas," she moaned.

Rosaline's parents, both Aurors for the Ministry, travelled a great deal, often having to leave quickly, with no more than twenty-four hours notice of their missions. Their only daughter had always hated these impromptu trips. Her young, though realistic, mind was always aware of the possibility that one or both might not return one day.

Rosaline glared into the fire, her hands folding the parchment of the letter into progressively smaller rectangles. Knowing it was useless to complain any further, she banished the dark clouds from her brow and sighed.

The miserable look on Anne's face gave Rosaline a twinge of guilt. There was no reason she had to ruin her friend's holidays. Forcing a smile, she reached for Anne's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, there're a few other people staying, and I really do need to do some studying -- N.E.W.T.S. are quickly approaching, you know," she said with as much assurance as she could muster. "Besides, I'll get to spend the entire summer lazing about at home before my parents throw me out."

Anne cracked a weak smile and nodded with hesitation.

"Okay Ros...I could always stay...?"

Rosaline shook her head. "Definitely not. I know you want to go home desperately, Annie. Don't feel you need to stay here to watch out for me. I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

"Alright...if you're sure..."

Rosaline smiled and winked at Anne. "Of course I'm sure. Now, you need to go and start packing -- I know how long you take -- and I need to go find McGonagall and tell her about this little change of plans."

The two girls stood up and headed off on their respective errands.

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