Falling Is Like This

CHAPTER 4: PLAYING WITH FIRE

Rosaline sat alone in the Gryffindor common room, watching the fire burn down in the hearth. The mass exodus from Hogwarts had been a few days earlier, and the silence which had settled over the old corridors and rooms of the castle was calming. As much as she had wanted to see her family again, the most pressing desire Rosaline felt was the need for solitude.

Social creature that she could be, and often was, Rosaline still needed regular breaks from the hordes of people who insisted on populating her section of the earth. The lack of patience she had for those less intellectually gifted than her did not help. Anne occasionally mused on how easily Rosaline could have ended up in Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin. A dark look from the subject of her contemplation, and that particular discussion invariably ended.

But Rosaline knew it was true. The Sorting Hat itself had suggested the two options. Ravenclaw was far too boring for a mischievous girl, and Slytherin had far too disturbing a reputation, reasons which made Rosaline sure Gryffindor was for her. Now, staring into the fire, surrounded by the familiar room she had come to know and love over her 7 years at Hogwarts, doubt crept into her mind.

Oh, Ravenclaw still had no appeal for her. The cloistered life of constant research and study could never have fully satisfied Rosaline. She did enjoy learning and studying in many respects, it just wasn't something she could have done all the time, even though Potions was, by far, her favourite subject. The idea of that sort of research, a hands on approach, was something she relished. Besides, most of the Ravenclaws she had spoken to were serious, and somewhat adverse to silly, pointless fun. No. The choice to avoid Ravenclaw did not bother her at all. It was the other choice she had given up, the one which would have put her in his house.

Rosaline was neither naïve nor prejudiced enough to believe that every single bad wizard to emerge from Hogwarts had been a Slytherin. Such reasoning was foolish and highly illogical. She knew that some of the best Aurors had emerged from Slytherin, and some of the worst Dark Wizards from other houses. She smiled wryly at the thought of Snape as an Auror.

'No...he's not some avenging angel,' she thought, 'but he's not a demon either'

Glancing at the large grandfather clock she noted that it was almost dinner time. Standing, Rosaline headed out the portrait hole, waved to the Fat Lady, and headed down to the Great Hall.

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Rosaline sat down at the almost empty Gryffindor table; the only other members of her house present were the Weasleys -- the second year twins, Fred and George, and their older, fourth year brother, Percy. She grinned as she watched one of the twins -- gods knew she could never tell them apart -- slip something into Percy's goblet while he wasn't looking.

Both Fred and George winked at her, then smiled sweetly at Percy who had just taken a drink. Almost instantly, his normally flaming red hair turned bright pink. Unaware of the change Percy looked at his younger brother with a mix of surprise and disgust as they began laughing hysterically. Rosaline, unable to control herself, collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Here," she laughed, handing Percy her small pocket mirror, "take a look."

Percy glanced at his reflection and stood up, roaring in anger. Fred and George almost fell out of their chairs with laughter. Percy's bellow caught the attention of the professors, who, with varying degrees of success, attempted to keep straight faces.

McGonagall rushed over and glares at the twins.

"Fred and George! How many times have I told you about pulling pranks like this? On your brother no less?" she yelled, her Scottish accent becoming even more pronounced in her anger. "Detention, for both of you!"

Fred and George, still far too hysterical with laughter, simply nodded at her, unable to speak. Percy was fuming. McGonagall patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Let's get you to the hospital wing, Mister Weasley. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey can fix this..." she said uncertainly, and shot a dark look at the twins with a gesture for them to follow before hurrying the very irate Percy out of the Hall.

Fred and George, finally having regained some degree of self-control, grinned broadly at Rosaline.

"Brilliant stuff, eh? We made it ourselves," boasted one, whom Rosaline decided was George.

"Sometimes, old chap," said Fred, elbowing his twin in the ribs, "we impress even ourselves."

"We'll see you sometime tomorrow, Rosaline, if McGonagall is feeling generous," George called over his shoulder as the two boys strolled out of the Great Hall.

Still chuckling, Rosaline started on a piece of chicken, chewing thoughtfully. Eating her meal in silence, Rosaline drifted off into her own little world. A soft cough behind her interrupted her train of thought.

Turning, she paled as she looked up into Snape's impassive face. Clearing his throat with what Rosaline was shocked to discover as embarrassment, he looked down at her with a slight sneer.

"Miss Staunton, it appears I have need of you," he purred silkily.

Rosaline's stomach began to dance the polka, but she forbade her features from betraying her shock.

'Damn him for using those exact words and that tone of voice,' she thought bitterly, 'of course, he delights in tormenting students. Why should I be any exception?'

She looked up at him coolly.

"Sir?"

"I am conducting some research at the moment, and I require another set of hands to aid in carrying out the tests. As you are one of the most competent students in Potions, as well as the only one of that small," he sneered at the word, obviously displeased at the necessity of its use, "group here, I thought you might be interested in assisting me."

Her nervousness forgotten, Rosaline smiled broadly and nodded. "I would love to, Sir. Research with Potions has always interested me."

Snape looked at her, a spark of amusement in his dark eyes for a brief second, before they froze back into impenetrable chips of black ice .

"I'm well aware of your interest, Miss Staunton. I will expect you in the Potions classroom at 8pm tonight. Good evening."

Rosaline watched him glide out of the Hall, his cloak billowing behind him. The prospect of working on testing out new potions gave Rosaline an excited little jolt when she thought about it.

She got up after a few minutes, and headed back towards Gryffindor tower. Her thoughts weren't long in drifting to Snape. Would he embarrass her? Mock her? Rosaline sighed. He'd been quite civil every since the little incident, and except for the occasional confusing dream, and the looks she and the Potions Master sometimes exchanged, things had been quite normal. But those looks always threw her for a loop.

She mumbled the password to the Fat Lady and crawled through the portrait hole, still deep in thought.

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At 8pm that evening, Rosaline stood before the door of the Potions classroom, shivering slightly from the cold. She knocked tentatively, then opened the door a crack.

"Professor Snape?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't waver.

"Ahh, Miss Staunton," a deep voice, lined with silk responded, "come in."

Rosaline slipped through the door and shut it gently behind her, then turned to look to the center of the room. Snape was leaning over a cauldron which simmered gently on one of the student desks. Any number of glass jars and vials were clustered on the same surface, their contents reflecting the light from the few candles floating near by. Without looking up, Snape crooked one long finger towards her, indicating she should approach.

Rosaline obeyed, walking quietly towards the tall man. She felt that any loud noise would be an unwelcome intrusion. Barely daring to breath, the girl waited quietly, her gaze resting on the deep red liquid within the cauldron for a moment before flicking up to observe the Potions Master's countenance. He looked...content. Not happy, a sentiment Rosaline wasn't sure Snape could feel, merely peaceful.

'He's in his element here,' she thought, 'this is where he belongs, where he feels most comfortable.' Her lips betrayed the pleasure she took from this knowledge, and curved up slightly, a faint smile dancing across her face.

Snape looked up at that moment and, noticing her ghost of a smile, looked at her quizzically, something, possibly amusement, flickering in his black eyes.

"Might I ask what you find so entertaining, Miss Staunton?"

The smile disappeared instantly, and Rosaline's face became serious.

"Nothing, sir. What are you preparing?" she asked quietly, changing the subject.

"I require your assistance in concocting the experimental form of a highly complex potion," Snape said briskly as he straightened, "I've received the proposed recipes and merely need to test them."

"What are you trying to create?" Rosaline asked, aware of the impropriety of asking such a question only after the words had left her lips.

Snape regarded her coolly. "That is none of your concern, Miss Staunton. Kindly mind your own business."

Rosaline bit her lip and nodded, chastised. Snape watched her for a moment, then slide a large jar over to her, letting it rest beside a pestle and mortar .

"Begin grinding down the arnica, Miss Staunton," he murmured, his eyes still on her.

Rosaline frowned as a stray thought flitted through her mind. She looked up at him, mild surprise on her features. "Arnica? That's wolfsbane, Professor. There are almost no potions which call for it, other than those for healing purposes. But they're rarely complex...and I somehow can't see you as a medi-wizard."

Snape sneered and glowered down at her. "I'll let that small insult pass, Miss Staunton, if you can tell me what else wolfsbane can be used for."

Rosaline resisted the urge to cower and wracked her brain.

"Well...it's used against werewolves, obviously. That's where it gets it's more common name from," she furrowed her brow in concentration, "but it has to be pure to kill them...if you were using it as a potion ingredient, that could only mean that you were attempting to cure..." Rosaline's eyes widened. "You're looking for a cure for lycanthropy!"

"Very good, Miss Staunton," Snape said coldly, "it appears you're not quite as brainless as I had begun to believe. Now, if you would be so kind," he drawled, sarcasm creeping back into his voice, "prepare the wolfsbane."

Rosaline flushed with indignation but kept her mouth shut. She began to pummel the herb relentlessly. Snape looked up to watch her.

"And 5 points to Gryffindor," he said silkily before returning his attention to the now bubbling concoction.

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They worked for a long time, most of which Rosaline spent preparing ingredients while becoming more and more exasperated, wondering why exactly she was needed here. Snape, demonstrating his talent at appearing to be psychic, explained how many of the ingredients needed to be prepared very shortly before the potion was made. As the task of brewing the mixture required constant supervision and attention, Snape could not possibly prepare the ingredients himself, and therefore needed an assistant

Rosaline accepted this explanation grudgingly, and continued chopping toad's liver.

As it began to approach midnight, Snape suddenly swore loudly and glared at the potion. Rosaline, surprised, dropped the small vial of salamander blood she had been holding. It fell to the floor at her feet and shattered, immediately igniting the bottom and lower front of her robe. Rosaline screamed, staggering backwards.

Snape was at her side in a moment, dousing the blaze with a potion of some sort. As quickly as they had appeared, the flames were gone. The bottom of Rosaline's robe was in tatters, ragged where it had been burnt.

"Miss Staunton, are you alright?" Snape asked, the anger in his voice tempered by concern.

Rosaline nodded dumbly in shock and took a shaky step towards a desk, needing something to lean against. As the cloth of her robe brushed against her legs she cried out and collapsed. Snape caught her before she hit the floor and looked down at her in confusion.

"Rosaline?" he asked. She merely whimpered in response.

Lifting her easily onto a bare desk, Snape pulled Rosaline's robe up to her knees and grimaced, his breath coming out in a shocked hiss. Her legs had been badly burned -- the skin a dark angry red, covered with blisters.

Snape strode quickly into his office and re-emerged a moment later, a number of large gauze pads in one hand and a bottle filled with silver liquid in the other.

"This will help," he said softly, and poured a generous amount of liquid onto a bandage.

He began dabbing it gently on her ruined legs, one hand wrapped lightly around her calf muscle, where the burns did not reach, to hold her steady. The skin immediately began to heal, pink with newness. Rosaline bit her lip, determined not to whimper. Working his way up from her ankles, Snape paused at her knees then pulled her robe up further, leaving it at mid-thigh. A few small burns marred the flesh there. Snape prepared a fresh pad and gently ran it over the marks. As the pain faded, Rosaline sighed, closing her eyes, the liquid cool and soothing against her skin. She opened her eyes slowly, the pain now gone. Snape was still kneeling on the floor, one long-fingered hand still holding her calf. He looked up at her, his face carefully expressionless.

"Thank you," she murmured, feeling a bit feverish, though not from the burns.

Snape nodded and stood, then tossed the used bandages in the bin. Rosaline sat quietly, staring blankly at her legs. Her robe was still hiked up, and the skin looked tender and fresh.

She looked suddenly up at Snape, and was surprised to see his glance was resting on her thighs. Immediately, his eyes were locked with hers, but for that brief moment, Rosaline had felt a thrill shoot up her spine.

'His eyes can be so cold and blank when he chooses,' she reflected, 'but when he lets his guard down...' unable to find the right words, Rosaline's train of thought derailed. There had been something dark and frightening in those black eyes, something she couldn't quite understand. Remembering his warm fingers on her legs, she shivered.

"Perhaps this little mishap will teach you to be more careful in future, Miss Staunton," Snape said dryly, breaking the spell. Rosaline flushed with indignation.

"You spoke loudly and startled me. I wouldn't have dropped the vial otherwise."

Snape regarded her with contempt. "Occurrences outside your control are no excuse. You must learn to expect the unexpected."

Rosaline dropped her eyes to the floor and pushed her ruined robe down over her legs. She stood slowly, and looked up at him again. He raised a brow and sighed.

"Go to bed Miss Staunton. I'll expect you to be here again tomorrow evening."

Rosaline nodded and headed towards the door, her mind struggling to process all the emotions and sensations she was feeling. A hand descended suddenly on her shoulder. She looked behind her, up into Snape's face.

"Perhaps, in future, it would be advisable to wear some form of outer clothing beneath your robes," he said with a smirk.

Rosaline blushed brightly and scampered out of the room.

The Potions Master stood for a moment, watching the doorframe from which she had retreated, before turning back to the mess in the classroom.

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