It was a rainy, Monday afternoon, when Eileen Prince-Snape heard the front door swing open and slam shut. Immediately she knew that her seven year-old son, Severus, was home from school. From her spot in the kitchen, Eileen heard him stomp upstairs to his room, directly above her, and slam his backpack onto the floor. She then heard the floorboards creak and a loud moan. Severus had flung himself onto his bed. Sighing heavily, Eileen followed her son’s path upstairs and entered his room. Sure enough, Severus laid face-down in the pillows, groaning and grumbling angrily.
“Go away. I don’t want to talk about school,” he said, as Eileen took a step towards him.
“Then we’ll talk about something else. What would you like for supper?”
“Ha, Mum. You’re funny,” Severus said sarcastically. “If you must know, I have a load of homework.”
“Homework?”
“Yeah, you know the work you take home.”
“Funny, Severus. What kind of homework? Maybe I can help you.”
Severus rolled onto his side, facing his mother, and propped himself up on one elbow to look”scowl”at her.
“I don’t think so. It’s over fairy-tales,” he spat the last word, although it scalded his tongue to say it. “Why are they called that anyways?”
Eileen laughed as she seated herself next to Severus. She rumpled his hair lovingly.
“Because we had two brothers, Jacob and William Grymm, alter things for the muggles.”
“That’s what I have to do, Mum. Alter one of them… change it into a different version.” Severus went quiet momentarily. “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”
“The Wizarding World, or rather, our family and the purebloods… To protect wizards and witches, real events were morphed into fairytales. I can tell you more, if you’d like.”
“Can I use it for my project?”
“Severus, we don’t cheat!”
“We just don’t get caught,” Severus said, grinning. “Please, Mum? It’s the stupidest assignment ever, and it’s not like it’ll matter in the long run.”
Eileen returned the grin. “Alright. I see your point. I’ll tell you.”
“Wait. Is it interesting?” Severus pressed.
“Very.”
“Okay, then. Tell me.”
***
Once upon a time, there was a cottage on the outskirts of a town in England. It wasn’t a particularly large cottage, and was shared by a girl named Rosalind Prewett and her godmother, Flora Flint.
***
“Mum, where’s this going?” Severus asked, impatiently. “You said it’d be interesting.”
“Hush, Severus, and you’ll see.”
***
Rosalind loved to spend time in the forest near her home.
***
“Mother, what do I care? I need something useful for my project.”
“Severus, you will care.”
“You promised there would be something interesting….”
His voice was whiny, and Eileen had little patience for it. Severus knew, so he sorely tested her. Yet, each time, he was shot-down.
“Quit complaining,” was all Eileen said, but the fire in her eyes told her son that she was passionate about the story and so, he was silent for one more sentence.
***
But Rosalind had a secret that even she did not know.
***
“That makes no sense.” This time, Severus was genuinely confused, how can someone have a secret that they don’t even know?
“Will you quit interrupting?”
***
She was the daughter of Stephen and Luciana Prewett, pureblooded and persecuted. As a baby, Rosalind (then called “Aurora”) was betrothed to Philip Prince, a boy only two years her senior. It was a perfect match, as the Prince family had escaped persecution from the muggles and (by means of bribery) were rather wealthy. But, it was not to last. The muggles sought out the Prewett family, and both Stephen and Luciana knew that they could not escape. So they rechristened Aurora to “Rosalind” and sent her away with her godmother in the cloak of darkness. The next morning, Rosalind and Flora were safe; Stephen and Luciana were to be burned at the stake.
***
Severus’ black eyes widened in excitement. A burning?
“Can you tell me about that?”
“About what?” Eileen asked, offhandedly.
“The burnings! Couldn’t they just freeze the flames and escape?”
“No. The Flame Freezing Charm was invented later.”
“Who invented it, then?” Severus challenged.
“Wendlin the Weird. Severus, I’m not going to tell you about the burnings. I’m telling you about Rosalind.” Eileen’s voice was forceful and once more, Severus’ remarks subsided.
***
Thus Rosalind grew up, raised as a muggle and without family. She learned reading and writing, along with household skills. Despite odd occurances, she was a fairly normal child.
***
“Odd occurances?”
“She could do magic. Just because she was raised as a muggle, doesn’t mean she was sapped of her powers,” Eileen explained. “Rosalind could make things levitate, heal, be harmed… But not intentionally. She’d need a wand for that.”
***
As the years passed, she became more and more beautiful, with her father’s curly, gold-red hair that sparkled that changed color in the light. She inherited her mother’s large, dark eyes and proud features. Needless to say, Rosalind was a very pretty girl.
***
“Are you sure she’s our ancestor, Mum?” Severus teased. He flashed his mother a sight of his crooked baby-teeth. Eileen laughed and continued.
***
Flora nursed Rosalind as a baby, educated her as a child, and shared her company as a young adult. However, she noticed that Rosalind was not around as much as she used to be.
***
“Why’s that?”
“I’m getting there,” Eileen reminded him.
“Well, hurry up! We only have an hour until Father gets home, and you know how he is…”
***
Flora noticed that Rosalind spent more and more time by herself, alone in the woods. But, what Flora didn’t know, was that Rosalind was seldom alone.
***
“Who was with her?” Severus asked. “Her family’s dead, she lives alone with Flora. It’s not like she had any friends….”
“Severus,” Eileen said, her voice mocking-stern. “We only have an hour until your father gets home, and you know how he is.”
“Ha-ha, Mum. Just tell me the story.”
***
Rosalind, on one of her many adventures into the woods stumbled upon a young man, lost and confused.
“Excuse me, miss,” he called to her. “Have you, by chance, seen my horse?”
Rosalind, who had been picking berries for a pie, looked up, startled. The tall youth before her had jet-black hair and grey, mischievous eyes, situated on either side of a prominent nose. He flashed a courteous smile and Rosalind felt blush creep up her neck.
***
Severus looked suddenly repulsed. “Is this going to get romantic?”
“Define romantic.”
“Kissy, girly, disgusting…” Severus began ticking off adjectives on his fingers.
“No. Well, not disgusting.”
“Mum…” Severus’ voice sounded reproachful and reprimanding.
“Don’t take that tone, Severus.”
Once more, Severus obliged, although scowling slightly because he hadn’t gotten a direct answer.
***
“Your horse, sir?” Rosalind managed to ask.
“Yes. He’s a large chestnut horse.”
Rosalind thought momentarily. “Any distinguishing features?”
“He has wings,” said the stranger, with an odd smile.
“Wings!” Rosalind scoffed. “Such things are for stories. Surely, you’re teasing, sir, and I do not appreciate it!”
***
“Doesn’t she know what an Aethonon is? Is she dense?” Severus was practically screeching at Rosalind’s stupidity.
“She was raised as a muggle, so she wouldn’t know.”
Eileen’s voice remained patient with her son. Severus’ voice, however, did not stay so pleasant.
“Muggles are stupid.” Severus’ voice was bitter. Eileen could tell that arguing would be futile. So, instead, she said, mildly, “Severus, do you want to know more?”
“Yes. Go on.”
***
“I do not jest. I’m in no position to ridicule you, as I am in desperate need of you assistance,” the man said calmly. “Will you help me?”
Rosalind, although skeptical that the horse truly had wings, was a kind girl. She understood that the young man needed her help, and, being a trusting soul, she nodded and followed the man. He led her to the clearing where he had initially lost his horse.
***
“Is he going to kill her?” Severus said morbidly.
Outraged, momentarily, Eileen shrieked, “Severus! What a horrible thought!”
“Sorry. Is he going to kidnap her?”
At that moment, Eileen regained her composure. “Anyways…”
***
The pair, Rosalind and the young man searched the forest for the horse, and after searching for two hours straight, Rosalind heard a whinny. She followed it, and found a large, chestnut horse, whose reigns were entangled in a tree branch. Deftly, she untied it and led it back to the clearing.
“Sir, sir! I found your horse!” she called.
The man ran back from the opposite direction of the clearing and saw Rosalind with his steed.
“Thank you, ma’am. I am now indebted to you. What favor would you care for?”
Rosalind thought. There was really nothing she needed, except for those berries, which she could easily get for herself. When she could think of nothing else she said, “What is your name?”
***
"But he’s a wizard! She could have asked him for a potion or elixir or a charm or…"
"Hush, Severus. She didn’t know that she could ask for any of these things. She didn’t even know his name!"
***
The man hesitated before answering. “Brendan. My name is Brendan.”
“Well, kind Brendan, thank you for your company, but I really must…”
Rosalind had more to say, but her eyes were drawn to the horse. It, indeed, had wings.
***
Eileen and Severus heard the door downstairs open and they both knew Tobias was home. Story-time had ended for the night, as he did not approve of fairy-stories”especially if Severus had other things to do: chores, homework, and other things came first. Thus, Eileen returned downstairs and Severus busied himself by folding laundry. Story-time could wait until tomorrow evening.
The next day, Severus returned home, eager-faced. He immediately threw his backpack down in the doorway and rushed into the kitchen to find his mother making dinner.
“I’m ready,” he said from behind his mother.
“Too bad the stew’s not.”
“No, not for dinner. What happens next? To Rosalind and Phillip, I mean.”
Eileen smiled to herself before facing her son. She wiped her hands on her apron and brushed a strand of dark hair from her face.
“Okay, if you’ll help me with dinner, I’ll tell you more.”
Severus pulled on an apron and willingly helped with dinner; Eileen launched into the story.
***
“Brendan! You weren’t joking!”
‘Brendan’ rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.
“A gentleman never lies,” he said, taking the reins from Rosalind.
“You are an interesting one. Please, come visit me anytime,” Rosalind said, excitedly.
“Er… Alright. If it pleases you…” Phillip said quietly. “But, for now, I must go. I am expected and am already late. Farewell, Rosalind.”
He mounted his horse and rode off, disappearing in the trees. Rosalind watched him go with intrigue.
“Farewell… Brendan.”
***
“But that’s not his name!” Severus protested. “His name’s Phillip. When’ll she find out that”“
Eileen just smiled, content that her son was so into the story.
***
The next afternoon, Rosalind and her Prince met again. And again the night after that. In fact, they met every afternoon for a year, and, as a result, became very good friends… in the least. The two were falling in love. But, both were engaged.
***
“Yeah! To each other,” Severus exclaimed, flailing his arms, and spilling the salt.
Eileen continued to smile gently as she flicked her wand to clean the mess.
“But they didn’t know that. Yet.”
***
It was Phillip who found out first. He was on his way to the stables when a house-elf appeared before him, announcing that his father, Harold, wanted a word with him.
“Sir, Master wishes a word with, Sir,” squeaked the tiny creature. “I is supposed to tell you, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
The house-elf led Phillip to his father’s parlor, where he sat, as though waiting. When Harold saw his son enter, he rose from his squashy armchair. Harold was a short, stocky man of powerful build, standing alongside his lanky son, they made quite a pair.
“Phillip,” he said genially. “The time has come for you to take a bride… To carry on our family line.”
Phillip, who had been holding his riding hat, dropped it suddenly, in surprise.
“I know just the girl!” he said, excitedly, thinking of Rosalind.
“Really?” Harold asked, taken aback. “You’ve met your bride-to-be?”
“Yes! Her name is Rosalind and”“
“Rosalind? Rosalind?” Harold squawked. “Her name is Aurora Prewett. She is the pureblooded daughter of Stephan and Luciana Prewett, may they rest in peace.”
“No, she’s not. I’ve never heard of her. I’m marrying Rosalind.”
“No, you are not. You are marrying Aurora and that is final. It has been arranged for years. You shall marry Aurora Prewett, not Rosalind Nobody.”
***
“But, Mum,” Severus interrupted as he cut carrots. “They’re the same person. Why’s Phillip so angry?”
“Severus, he doesn’t know that. Right now, his heart is breaking.”
***
“May I at least tell her of my engagement?” Phillip asked, sorrowfully.
Harold hesitated.
“It would be gentlemanly; to do other wise would be cowardice.”
Slowly, Harold nodded in consent. He excused Phillip, who raced out to the stables. He mounted his horse and rode to the woods, a plan formulating in his head. He and Rosalind would run away… elope. His mind raced faster than his horse, but, when he arrived, Rosalind was not there. He called her name and received no answer.
Only half a mile away, Rosalind was at home, sitting stunned at the kitchen table. Flora, a dumpy woman of middle-age was patting her hand lovingly.
“I’m”I’m what?” Rosalind said slowly. She was having difficulty forming words.
“A witch… Magical, my dear. You can do spells, make potions…. Not only that,you’re you are a pureblooded witch! You are marrying Phillip Prince; tonight, on your seventeenth birthday. You are of age.”
“But I must tell Brendan!” Rosalind cried, tears welling up in her large, expressive eyes.
“Who is this ‘Brendan’?” Flora asked sharply.
Rosalind bit her lip; she could not tell Flora about Brendan, because it was forbidden for her to befriend a man.
***
“Why?” Severus asked. “That’s dumb.”
“It was the way of the world at that time,” Eileen said softly.
***
“Never mind,” Rosalind muttered, clear tears trickling down her cheeks. “Maybe it’s best this way…”
Flora clutched Rosalind’s wrist and they apparated to Prince Estate.
***
At this point in the story, Eileen and Severus had finished making the stew and Tobias would be home in ten minutes.
“Set the table, Severus. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”
The next day, Severus eagerly returned home from school. In his hand was a notebook.
“I’m going to record this story. That way, I’ll know it for my project,” he said, proudly.
Eileen nodded, before launching into her tale.
***
In the servant’s quarters of Prince Estate, was a laundry-maid by the name of Leticia Somnolens. She wasn’t an ordinary serving girl; she was a hag.
***
“Mum!” Severus scoffed, looking up from his notebook. “You told me it was wrong to call someone a hag.”
“No, Severus, she literally was a hag: the kind with four toes and an appetite for children.”
***
Leticia was not only ugly, but jealous. For years, since she’d begun to work at the Estate, she’d held a secret love for Phillip. She loved him for his mischievous eyes, his laugh, and his biting wit. News of his engagement reached Leticia’s ears, and immediately, she set out to undo Phillip’s bride-to-be and to undo Phillip. But, upon Rosalind’s arrival, Leticia saw her radiant beauty. Surely, it was no fault of Phillip’s that he loved her. Leticia felt that it was wrong to punish Phillip for his mere attraction; physical beauty could not satiate a man’s desire for long, as beauty faded with age. She would kill Rosalind that night.
***
“She doesn’t die,” Eileen said casually.
“I never said she would,” Severus snapped.
“You looked concerned. So, I thought it best to tell you she doesn’t die.”
Indeed, Severus looked alarmed. His notebook now lay forgotten on the tiled floor, and his black eyes were wide with anticipation and concern.
“I’m not concerned. I’m just”Are you going to finish the story or not?”
***
Leticia knew Phillip to be away on a ride, so she stole into his private potions storage room. The storage room was unlike any modern one; many of the potions lining its cabinets have been long forgotten. Vials and jars containing liquids of every color, every shade, and every tint glinted in the candlelight. Now, as Leticia was not a witch, she could not outright kill Rosalind with the Avada Kedavra curse (which has been in existence as long as anyone can remember). No. Leticia needed something else to kill the girl. Unskilled at anything other than the art of laundry-folding (which was her only task, as the house-elves took care of everything else; Leticia resourcefully used what materials surrounded her. Phillip’s potions.
Despite the variety of potions and poisons colored like the rainbow, the brew Leticia saught was clear, odorless, and resembled water.
***
“Do you know what it was, Severus?” Eileen paused, to check her son’s level of interest.
“Draught of the Living Death.”
Eileen smiled, content with the knowledge her son possessed.
“Indeed, it was.”
***
Leticia clutched the vial of Draught of the Living Death, her ugly, toad-like face split in a wicked grin. She had chosen her poison, now to capture her victim.
Meanwhile, in the forest near the cottage, astride his winged horse, Phillip raced through the trees, dodging and ducking beneath branches. But, alas, Rosalind was nowhere to be found. Phillip checked in all the places the two of them had explored together; the creek, the hills. With a heavy heart, he turned back toward home.
At the same moment, Rosalind was led to a room, with a large four-poster bed. There was a full-length mirror, and it was lavishly decorated. The grandeur made her heart ache for the simple bedroom at home, in the cottage. She missed its blue, patchwork quilt and she missed the dirt floor. She missed the smell of bread or pies baking wafting in from the kitchen. But, most of all, she missed the view from her window, on-looking the forest she so dearly loved; the forests with which she and dear, sweet Brendan spent their days. As the memories flooded her mind, Rosalind sank to her knees’ sobbing. Then, over the noise of her tears, Rosalind heard a knock at the door. Wiping her tears, she rose and answered the door. A squat, warty woman stood there, a white gown folded neatly in her arms.
“Hello, Miss,” croaked the stranger. “I am here to deliver your wedding gown.”
“Do come in, then,” Rosalind sniffed.
She stepped aside so the woman could enter. The woman placed the gown gently on Roaslind’s new bed. She turned to face Rosalind and gave a loud tutting sound.
“Is everything alright?” Rosalind asked.
“It’s just your dress,” the woman said simply.
“I happen to like it,” Rosalind said, stiffly.
“It’s not that; it’s a beautiful dress. It’s ripped.”
Although the dress, simple shades of grey and brown, was not beautiful as the woman said, it was, in fact, ripped.
“I can mend it, if you’d like,” the woman offered.
“Could you?” Rosalind’s face lit up with excitement. “Thank you!”
“Better yet,” the woman said. “I could teach you how to mend it yourself.”
Rosalind clapped her hands in delight.
“Yes, please!”
The woman nodded, and walked to the back wall. She tinkered with an odd device momentarily. When she turned around, she addressed Rosalind.
“I’ll leave, so that you can change into your wedding clothes. I’ll return when you call. Don’t touch the spinning wheel.”
And with that, the woman excused herself.
Rosalind, now alone, looked at the device. That must be the spinning wheel, she mused. What would it hurt if I just looked at it?
Before removing her simplistic clothes, Rosalind walked toward the spinning wheel and examined it. Unconsciously, she ran her fingers over its polished wood. Her middle finger suddenly was pricked by something sharp. A pulsating pain surged through her veins as she fell to the ground, cold as death.
Out in the corridor, Leticia laughed heartlessly.
***
“You said she didn’t die!” Severus protested, outraged, shaking with fury. “You lied to me!”
“I did not,” Eileen said calmly. “She doesn’t die. You and I both know that there is an antidote for Draught of the Living Death.”
“But that was discovered after this!” Severus argued.
“Yes. Three years after this, exactly.”
***
A house-elf found Rosalind, crumpled on the ground. Giving a shriek, the house-elf rushed to alert his masters. He found Phillip returning from his escapade to the forest.
“Sir!” squeaked the house-elf. “Sir! Your bride-to-be is”Oh! It is too horrible, Wheedly dare not repeat it sir!”She is fainted. She is maybe dead.”
Wheedly, the house-elf, expected yelling to ensue, but it did not. Instead, Phillip’s face split with glee. If his bride-to-be was dead, he was free to marry Rosalind! But, realizing his behavioral slip-up, Philip regained his composure and followed Wheedly to his bride-to-be’s bedroom.
Once there, Phillip gasped in horror. He knelt beside the cold body of his future wife, his ‘Aurora’, his Rosalind, his love. He took her in his arms and cried in wild abandonment. Minutes ago he was cursing her for not being there for him, then rejoicing in her death. But now, his heart was breaking.
***
“He cried?” Severus spat.
“Yes, he cried.”
“He was, what, nineteen and he’s crying over a girl?” Severus was incredulous.
“That happens when you’re in love, sometimes.”
“Does Father cry about you?”
Ignoring her son, Eileen continued her story.
***
Phillip felt her neck, and, faintly, there was a pulse. It may have been faint, but it was definitely there. Phillip pressed his lips to Rosalind’s hand. Upon holding it, he noticed that her middle finger was bleeding. He ripped off a piece of cloth from his shirt hem and bandaged her injury. He looked to see the spinning wheel beside him and he saw her blood tainted the spindle. How could pricking her finger on the spindle cause Rosalind to be so near death?
Phillip rose, to search the room for clues. The room was as lavishly decorated as his father had left it. It was unchanged… excepting the white gown folded neatly on the bed.
“Wheedly,” Phillip barked. “Who brought this here?”
“One of the human servants, Sir. We house-elves is forbidden to touch clothing.”
Phillip knew of only one human servant: Leticia Somnolens.
***
“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Eileen said, abruptly. “You’ve clothes to fold, yourself.”
Severus groaned, but rose from the chair he’d taken in the kitchen. He dragged his feet all the way upstairs. Eileen smirked, satisfied that she’d been able to hold his attention for so long.
“I’ve finished my laundry!” Severus yelled, running back downstairs half an hour later. “Can you tell me more of the story?”
“Story?”
The voice that greeted Severus was not that of his mother’s, but his father, Tobias’, voice. Severus stopped dead in his tracks. He heard the legs of a chair scrape the ground. Then, footsteps. Tobias came into view at the bottom of the stairs.
“What story, Severus?” he asked coldly.
Severus’ breathing was the only thing that could be heard. Then, “Where’s Mum?”
“Mum is running an errand. What story, Severus?”
“The one Mum was telling me. I’ve been good, so she’s been telling me a story.”
If there was one thing in the world Severus feared above all else, it was his father. Tobias Snape was as unpredictable as a wildfire, and could do twice as much damage. There were days that he would be kind, calm and suave. Those were the days Severus liked second best (only above those were the days Tobias wasn’t actually there. Those were the days he could hear his mother’s stories without worrying about what his father would think. Those were the days when he could eat anything for supper, without thinking twice about nutritional value. But, best of all, those were the days there was never any fighting or shouting). Other times, Tobias was sadistic, angry and drunk. Still other times, there were times when he was passive, reserved and silent. And, although Tobias could be any of those in combination, he was always discerning, practical, sarcastic, and foreboding. And, although Severus feared him at times, he also admired him, too.
“Well, Mum isn’t here right now. Go to your room.”
Heaving a sigh of relief, Severus was thankful his father was just irritated, and nothing more. The story would have to wait one more night.
The next morning, Severus felt a frog in his throat. Or, so he said. Eileen didn’t believe him completely, but she wasn’t going to risk sending him to school. So, the day was spent, in Severus’ bedroom; Eileen telling the story and Severus listening intently.
“Where did I leave off?”
“There was only one human servant… Leticia Somnolens.”
“Yes, thank you.”
***
Phillip didn’t go after Leticia immediately; no. Instead, he went straight to his mother, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, in contrast to her husband, was thin and not as good-tempered. In fact, she was so suspicious of others, she’d spent years training to be a Legilimens. Legilimens
***
“A Legila-what?” Severus asked hoarsely.
“Legilimens. Legilimency. They’re like… It’s like mind-reading, but altogether different. You can extract emotions and memories… It just comes naturally to some people.”
“Did it come naturally to Elizabeth Prince?”
“Shh… You’re sick. I’ll tell you everything.”
***
Elizabeth was a very shrewd woman, and a very good Legilimens. She loved her only son dearly. So dearly, that she willingly accepted his request to question Leticia herself. So, down to the servants quarters Elizabeth went. The house-elves and Leticia, unused to the sight of the Mistress in their midst, became nervous, but Leticia most especially. For, she had every reason to be nervous. She’d ruined Phillip’s wedding day and taken the life of the bride. When Elizabeth made eye contact with Leticia, Leticia’s guilt sky-rocketed, and Elizabeth knew who had killed Rosalind, and how the supposed murder had been committed. When she repeated her tale to her son, Phillip was devastated. There was no known cure for Draught of the Living Death.
No known cure. Phillip pondered for a while. Perhaps, he could invent one.
***
“He does, right?” Severus said, before coughing.
“You’ll see.”
***
For three long years, Phillip slaved away in his potions room, positioned before a cauldron. He tried many combinations of ingredients. Each experiment proved futile, when the elixirs could not revive the flobberworms he tested it on. Then, one day, in experimenting, a flobberworm regurgitated the potion it had just been fed and the mucus-like substance landed in Phillip’s cauldron. Out of desperation, he tried the concoction on the flobberworm. It awoke. Immediately, Phillip took an inventory of what was in his potion. The flobberworm mucus, pomegranate juice, and Wiggentree bark. Phillip poured a sample into a vial and rushed to Rosalind’s room, where she lay, unchanged in beauty and in age. Phillip smeared his lips with the potion”he still hadn’t named it, although it would later be called Wiggenweld Potion”and he bent over his beloved. His lips met hers in a kiss. He pulled away and stared down at her, praying that his potion had worked.
Slowly, color rose in Rosalind’s cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with breath, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Brendan!” she exclaimed. She pulled him into a second kiss. “You look so tired,” she commented as they broke apart.
“Rosalind, there is something I must tell you.”
Detecting the seriousness in his voice, Rosalind fell silent.
“My name is not Brendan; it is Phillip Prince.”
Phillip expected her face to fall, he expect her to shout, he expect anything but a third kiss, which is what he got.
“I wanted it to be you,” Rosalind murmured. “Truly I did, but I didn’t dare hope it was…”
They were wed that evening, and no grander, more love-filled celebration has been seen since.
***
“The End.”
“The End?” Severus asked before a coughing fit ensued. “It can’t end like that! You said that it would be interesting.”
“Oh, did I?” Eileen said softly, feigning forgetfulness. “I must have been thinking of the story about their son, Brendan and his beloved Eirwen McNair. The two of them battled more evils than you can imagine…”
Severus’ face lit up.
“Tell me that one, then,” he said, eagerly, though his voice was feeble.
“Well, it begins with ‘Once upon a time…’”
***
Sleeping Beauty and her Prince by Madame Marauder
Chapter Notes: A/N: Yes, I did borrow information from the actual fairytale, and the Harry Potter PC game. But, those were merely sources of inspiration. The rest of the story is one-hundred percent Madame Marauder.