Accidents of Circumstance

Chapter 22: Pocket Full of Posies

Ron was watching Draco with narrowed eyes. Draco would speak to himself in Gera at odd intervals, hand in his pocket and eyes distant, looking out of the windows. Ron didn't trust Draco's pensive silence, the way his silvery eyes seemed to take in everything and judge what he saw. Ron didn't like the feeling that Draco looked at him and found him wanting in some way. It was hard enough to take the look from across the Great Hall at meals, and now they were caught in one house. It was too small for the two of them.

Ron wanted to pound Draco's head in.

His personal strength wasn't in book knowledge, and Ron was painfully aware of this. It was hard to miss, spending so much time with Hermione. But it had never rankled quite so much before. Usually, he could just write off Draco as an insufferable Slytherin git and call it a day. Now he was beginning to see that there was some kind of depth to Draco, something shimmering just beneath the surface that maybe wasn't worthy of hate. It made Ron uncomfortable, knowing that maybe Ginny was right about Draco. It also made him realize that his own basis for thinking wasn't quite on solid ground. There was really only so far Ron was willing to go on that train of thought, but it was already more than he had once been willing to give. It was too easy to bash Draco, too easy to say he was using his father's influence.

Except he wasn't. This was Draco without the Malfoy millions, without thugs to back up every sneer. Without the need to act so superior, Draco was able to study oddities with relish and stare out of windows murmuring to himself. It made him too similar to Harry in a way, when Harry had been learning Neo-Pictish. He would stand at the dorm window, reciting to himself the strange spells over and over, thoughts distant and troubling. Ron had been pained when Harry hadn't confided in him what he was learning, but understood that the less he knew about the ancient magic, the better. Harry had been excited to learn it, but troubled at the same time. He knew it had meant his faith in Dumbledore had crumbled slightly; ordinary magic wasn't good enough anymore, and only odd and ancient magic could save him. It was subversive and exciting, but also deeply troubling. The Ministry wasn't as good and as whole as Harry had once dreamed it to be, and the only way to save it was to subvert its laws.

Ron watched Draco suddenly move as if he had woken from a dream. Draco purposefully moved to the basement, and Ron followed silently. Hermione had said that Regina had done something silly and drastic, and Ron trusted her judgment. He just wondered if Draco was at the bottom of it, if he had done something stupid and was feeling guilty about it.

"You didn't have to do that today," Draco said. Ron had missed the beginning of the conversation, and didn't know what Draco was talking about.

There was the sound of Regina hitting a punching bag, and Ron crept further down the stairs, just far enough to peep over the solid railing. Draco was sitting on a fluffy armchair and watching Regina land kick after kick on the punching bag.

Ron had to keep himself from making a startled noise when he saw Regina, hair cut to just above her chin. When had this happened?

"I do lots of stupid things, Draco," Regina panted between kicks. "Haven't you figured that one out yet?"

"That one was the worst."

"Depends on your point of view."

"He loves you! Doesn't that count for something?"

Regina stopped kicking the bag and stood there, chest heaving. "You're young enough to think that solves everything."

"Aren't you willing to try?"

"Why are you insisting?" Regina said, echoing the thought in Ron's mind.

"Because I'm in the same place! And if you can't make it work, I don't have a chance!"

"It's not the same for you. You're not the same."

"Yes it is. He has to fight to prove he's good enough for you. He has to prove it to everyone, since no one believes there's any good in him. What do you think the others think of me? You think they'll accept me for Ginny? You saw the Weasel's reaction."

Regina's face softened, and something clicked in the back of Ron's mind. It felt like a puzzle piece sliding into place, making up a whole picture. It was something Hermione had said before, sitting in the room she had chosen for herself upstairs. The curtains had been drawn against the sun. "You know she doesn't trust herself around him. You see how afraid she is of him? She thinks he'll hurt her. She's going to do whatever she can to hurt him first, just to keep him away. You watch and see. It's so sad, she doesn't have to do it. He's changed, but she's too scared to even look."

And Draco was in love with Ginny, was trying to change for her, to try and be someone she could be proud of. He was scared she would also grow to hate him in time, afraid she would turn on him and he would lose the one that cared about him most.

A little piece of the hate faded away. Ron would have denied it if asked, but he was beginning to respect Draco, just a little.

"You don't have to prove anything, Draco. The fact that you're here is volumes enough."

"Tell it to the Weasel."

"How about you stop calling him that, and using his name?"

Draco made a face. "But he hates me. Why should I?"

"That proving you're good enough idea?"

Draco picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shirt. "How about this... I call him by name if you talk to Professor Snape."

Regina's mouth thinned to a line, and she whirled around to punch the bag with all her strength. It swayed back and forth, and she punched it another few times.

"Gina, he deserves a chance. You didn't see him when you were gone. You don't see the way he looks at you."

"He'll break me," she said in a small voice. "Ron would never do that to you."

Draco snorted. "You've never seen him in action, then. He'd go down swinging if he thought it would get me in the process." Ron would have agreed, but suddenly he no longer thought of it as a sign of bravery.

"But he would stop eventually. He wouldn't destroy you utterly."

"He couldn't." Ron would rather have contested that statement, but he needed to stay hidden. That and he probably couldn't actually tear Draco to shreds, no matter how much he tried to think of himself as strong and brave.

"Sev could. He already ripped me up once. You think I'll give him another chance?"

"Gina, he was stupid. He's admitted it. Just let it go."

Regina turned, face haunted. "That's just it. I can't."

***

ring around the roses, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down...

The voice was familiar. Someone was singing in a high pitched voice, swinging on the swing set in the backyard. There were boys' voices nearby, various shouts indicating that they were in the middle of a game of touch football. The girl hadn't wanted to play, would rather swing and sing to herself. She was six, too young to play with the bigger boys. There were no younger boys her age, no one to climb trees with or play hopscotch with. She was pretty lonely, and knew that she was special in a dangerous way. It was the shifty look she got sometimes, the way things just happened around her, the way she knew things that she shouldn't. She was smart for her age, but something wasn't quite right about her.

She was wearing a pink frilly dress with white lace trim, long black hair in twin braids down the side of her head. Her mother was inviting some social workers over for tea and cookies that afternoon, and she would have to look pretty. She would have to stay clean, not play around in the mud and shout after an oblong ball in a game with silly rules.

What did the rules matter when things could shatter or bend in her hands?

ring around the roses, pocket full of posies-

The rhyme was cut short. There was the sound of a truck next door. This was something she could investigate without getting into trouble, or getting dirty. It didn't take long to race around the fence, past the boys and their game, past the garden, past the neighbors' dying lawn and up to their driveway.

A little girl with long blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes was standing there, watching the moving men imperiously. She was demanding her toy box, wanting to play with them now.

The little girl in pink went up to introduce herself. They were going to be friends. They had to be, they lived right next door to each other. The other girl was almost nine, much too old to play with someone six. But the six year old was going to be seven in a few months, didn't that count for anything? And she had her toys all unpacked in her room.

And then they were in the park, a bright sunny day the following month, the last good day of summer. The imperious girl was in a temper. She was always in a temper.

And then the six year old girl lost her temper. And it was tragic.

Face turning purple, no breath and no pulse, eyes bulging with fear. Power flowing in and out and finding a convenient target. Face deep red, like roses, turning purple...

ring around the roses, pocket full of posies

ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down...

Regina gasped as she woke with a start. She was twitching, could feel her heart race wildly, her breath unsteady in her chest. Someone was knocking at her door.

She closed her eyes and willed Severus Snape to go away. It had to be him. He had been dogging her steps all day, trying to talk to her. She had avoided him at every turn, finally locking herself in her room. She hadn't trusted herself not to lose her temper and lose control. She had to keep control. Otherwise, it could be tragic. There was no one to correct her mistakes now, no one to save her from herself.

A piece of paper slid itself under the door. There was a smear across it, and Regina knew what it had to be.

Written in ashes over a smear of blood was a short message:

I never stopped bleeding for you.

***

The classes were going quickly. Regina had thrown herself into planning them with a vengeance. Any one of the teens could have found her in the office, old books in front of her, taking notes in a legal pad or spiral notebook. She was condensing lessons, creating and recreating spells to make them easier. She was charting their progress, pleased with them and the enthusiasm they were showing for the work.

She was less than pleased with herself, with her vacillating heart. Some moments she would look at Snape, flushed with memory. At other times, she was still and silent as stone. It was hard to tell, and it was becoming painful for the teenagers to watch.

Hermione and Harry had already had a conversation about it, and now they drew in Ron for his opinion. Surprising them both, Ron suggested bringing in Draco as well.

They began to plot. There was no other way.

***

Regina was sitting on the swings in the backyard. She hadn't quite fit all those years ago, when the house first was pulled into a pocket dimension. A few spells had fixed that, and she now sat comfortably. She moved listlessly, feet dragging in the dirt. There were tracks, years of dragging feet scuffing away the grass and leaving dirt behind. She had done this much too often, sitting in the backyard in silence. She had even created a few spells to make it seem as though it were nighttime in the backyard. There was nothing like dead silence in the dark to make a girl feel pensive and uneasy.

A week had already passed. Maybe almost two. It was starting to scare her, that she was losing track of the days, that her internal clock was starting to slip. She was off kilter, something was knocking her awareness inside out. She knew exactly what it was, but not how to stop it from happening. Control was all she had left, and she was quickly losing that as well.

Draco walked out into the darkened backyard. "Feeling okay?"

"Everyone else has asked me that."

"We all mean it."

"Doesn't change my answer."

"We're worried about you."

"Don't be. My mental breakdown doesn't affect you."

"Yes it does. If I lose you, I have nothing left."

Regina was shaking her head. "Oh no, I'm not that important. Never was. You make your own way, you follow your own path. I was just a choice along the road."

"Then I made a right one, with your help."

"Just go study, okay? Go over your notes. There'll be a quiz tomorrow."

"Can you even tell what day it is?"

Hermione had guessed that Regina was losing track of the days. He hadn't known how she could guess that, but now he could see she was right. Regina seemed more lost than the first day, than right after the confrontation with Snape in the den. She had been studiously avoiding Snape, shivering whenever he managed to touch her in some way. Ron had seen it just that morning, and had shaken his head. "Only a matter of time," he had said sagely, as if he knew the way frustrated passion would move.

"You don't, do you?" Draco asked when Regina didn't answer. She probably couldn't.

"Just go, Draco. Let it go."

Her voice was flat, dead. She seemed like someone out of hope. It didn't have to be this way, and she was doing this to herself. It was unfair.

He was going to have to fix it.

Draco went back inside the house, and saw Snape standing in the kitchen, watching her from the window. "You should say something to her," Draco said softly.

"She won't listen."

Even Snape seemed to be broken. There was only so much rejection one man could take.

"You have to know how to tell her."

"I thought I did."

"She's just confused."

"Doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. If you can figure out the way to tell her, she'll listen."

"It won't work, Draco. Stop trying."

"It worked once, Professor. It can work again."

Snape didn't answer, and Draco left the room. The last time she had honestly listened to what he had to say about their relationship had to be sixteen years ago. The last time she had listened to anything he had to say had been in the teachers' lounge at Hogwarts. But this was not the same place, not the same time. Nothing was the same. How would he be able to communicate with her in the same way? She had shunned him so much, he was despairing of ever being able to get her attention. He didn't feel like himself anymore.

And then he had an idea.

***

Rose petals began to fall from the roof. First one, then two, then four, sixteen, forty, uncountable. Regina got up and looked at the roof, unable to see what was casting down the light pink petals. There was a footfall on stone as the cascade began to thin. Regina slowly looked down, right at Snape. "You did this?"

The last of the petals fell to the ground, making a carpet of pink. "You said once I didn't have the sense of a romantic."

"You still don't."

Snape held out a bouquet of roses and lilies. "For love and for remembrance."

"Remembrance is rue."

He made a face. "I forgot."

Regina couldn't help it; the line had touched her sense of the absurd. She burst out in laughter, head thrown back. She suddenly couldn't remember why she hated him. He was an idiot, to be sure, but then again so was she. They did fit together, didn't they?

"I do love you," Snape was saying.

"Severus, shut up," Regina said, stepping closer. She threw her arms around his neck and sighed. "I've been stupid."

"I know. I love you anyway."

She could feel the petals through her thin T shirt, knew that it was silly to keep shooting barbs at him that he was only going to take. He needed to stop suffering. She needed to stop suffering, too. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I never meant to hurt you," Snape said gently. "I didn't think I meant that much to you. I never mattered to anyone before."

"I know. I know." She leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

"I love you," he murmured after breaking their kiss.

Regina sighed. She didn't want to say it. To say it was to mean it, and she didn't want to give him any more power over her.

But it was silly. He already knew.

"I love you, too. Too much. So much it hurts."

"I'm sorry," Snape whispered, lips pressed against the top of her head. "I'm sorry." He murmured it over and over as he kissed her temples, cheeks, nose and lips. "I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you."

The flowers fell from his hands and scattered across the ground. Neither noticed.

***

Regina stirred in bed. It was strange to have someone else in it, and she wasn't quite used to the feeling. "Why did I let you trick me with a waterfall of petals?"

"Are we going to get into this again?" Snape asked wearily. He had one arm tucked beneath his head, and the other was beneath Regina. She was curled up around him, head lying on top of his bare chest. She was listening to his heartbeat.

"Well? How did you know that it would stop me long enough?"

"I didn't. I just hoped it would be different enough to catch your attention."

"It did, but how? I don't get it!"

"Why? You still think of me as a heartless bastard?"

Regina giggled. This conversation was too surreal. "Well, you have your moments."

"Affectation, I assure you," Snape said dryly.

"Sure, sure," Regina muttered. She traced idle circles on his skin with her free hand. The other was curled tightly between them. "Now what?"

"Now we sleep. You have lessons in the morning."

Regina smacked her head. "I knew I was forgetting something!"

"What?"

"Silencing spells!"

Snape was utterly still for a moment. "They know, don't they?"

"I'm too loud for them not to know, Sev. And you weren't exactly a statue either."

He groaned. "We're never going to live with this."

"Sure we are," Regina said, suddenly rising to an elbow. She had a wicked grin on her face. "Anyone who says a word tomorrow will have to pick up every single rose petal from my backyard. Without magic."

"You're devious," Snape said, a slow smile spreading across his face. The multiplying charm he had used had generated at least ten million petals in order to spread a thick carpet across the grass.

"Of course I am. I'm a Reven. If Briarwood had houses, I'd be a Gryffinslyth."

"Slythingryff," Snape replied suddenly, bewitched by her grin. He laughed when she wrinkled her nose in distaste. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed just because he could, just because he was that happy.

"You should smile more often," Regina said softly, tracing his lips with a fingertip. "Smile like you mean it."

"Not in Potions."

"Nah. It's kind of fun to see the students tremble with fear."

"Exactly," Snape said seriously. He knew Regina was being sarcastic, but terrorizing the little brats had given him a perverse kind of pleasure over the years.

She was shaking her head. "Whatever will I do with you?"

"Kiss me again, and I'll show you."

She did. He did, too.

***

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