Chapter Ten: Taking Tea in Greenhouse Four
The dancing room was large and well lit, with a sprung wooden floor and mirrors all around. Ninette had always been more comfortable there than anywhere else. Whether because it was familiar or because she could be sure of being alone, she did not know, but lately it had become her place of retreat.
She did her homework sitting by the barre, her reflection spinning out infinitely in all directions. Wingardium Leviosa was like a frappé “ “Brush ze floor quick “ quick, but strong!” Orbis was a ronde du jambe,spinning faster or slower depending on the flick of the wrist, the turn of the ankle. She understood these, the movements and memorizations which had been her life since she was six; it was a question of matching up the right motions with the right words, the piano thumping out the beat in her head: the last of the Great Giant Wars took place the year Sleeping Beauty was first performed, which was 1890, which you must always remember because that’s how many years dancers have been dancing these parts and someday it will be you and so you must practice“
When her muscles ached so that she could no longer dance, she worked on her homework, practicing wand movements and incantations; when the Latin began running together in her head, she stood at the barre and stretched. She did not think about the Gryffindor table, full of laughing students, nor of the three girls in the large room at the top of the tower where she spent as little time as possible. She did not think of smiling Charlie or sarcastic Kevin or laughing Tonks who had flown at her in anger.
She wished that she could stay in this room, mirrors and all, without having to leave its safety to go out to classes or to meals or to sleep, out in the castle where Marianne smiled and Justine taunted and Tonks pretended she did not exist. She wondered what would happen if she stopped venturing out. Would anyone notice, or care? Or would she just slowly fade, like the ghosts she had seen in the corridors and on the stairs? She would be a very quiet ghost, she thought “ not like the crying one in the girl’s bathroom or the chattering one that knocked over suits of armor. Perhaps no one would notice a silent ghost in a room full of mirrors that no one else ever looked in.
The more she practiced, the more Madame seemed to be unhappy with her dancing. “There is no spark!” she complained. “What has happened to your elevation? You must be lighter “ and tighter… You are drooping!”
During her Friday lesson, Madame stopped her after the barre exercises. “You are pale,” she said. “And you are theener. ’Ave you been ill?”
Ninette shook her head.
“’Ave you been eating? Sleeping?”
Ninette nodded.
Madame frowned at her. “You cannot dance like zis. Put on your robes. Yes, now. Go! Go!”
Obediently, Ninette pulled her robes over her leotard.
“Now go!” Madame exclaimed. “Out! Get out!”
Confused, Ninette stared at her. “I’m sorry?” she asked.
“Out of ze room!” cried Madame. “You ‘ave been too long in ze one place, I think. You weel dance no more today.”
Somehow Ninette found herself standing outside the closed door of the dancing room, her schoolbag in her hand. “Go play weeth your friends,” said Madame firmly. “Zat is what leetle girls do, yes? Go outside, maybe. ‘Ave a snowball fight. You need color in your cheeks.” Then she turned around and walked away, and Ninette was left alone in the corridor.
She wandered aimlessly through the halls for a while, watching the occasional student meander by. She had completed her homework, but dreaded both the common room and the dormitory. When she saw Justine and Marianne up ahead, she turned quickly away, hurrying down an empty corridor to escape.
Turning a corner, she collided hard with something; suddenly she found herself on the floor, tangled up with a tall, dark-haired student.
“Excuse me!” said the girl indignantly, and Ninette scrambled backward, apologizing. The girl did not reply, but busied herself gathering her dropped belongings, her dark hair swinging and nearly obscuring her sallow face. She looked vaguely familiar, but then, so did a great many of the school’s students.
Awkwardly, Ninette bent to help; the girl had already gathered her papers, but a small wooden box had landed near Ninette’s feet. Picking it up, she held it out, looking at it curiously as she did so. It was the right size to fit in the palm of her hand, carved with strange designs, and yet so light that it felt empty. She held it for scarcely a moment before the girl snatched it away, leaving the palm of Ninette’s hand tingling slightly.
Without a word the girl turned around, retreating quickly down the hall. It was the way she turned, the twitchy, restless energy of her motion, that allowed Ninette to recognize her “ it was the girl who had interrupted her Herbology class earlier that week. Spurred by the movement, Ninette’s thoughts flashed back to the events of the lesson, and Professor Snith’s surprising disclosure afterwards. Before she had even had time to think her feet had decided for her and she was halfway to the Entrance Hall.
It was snowing outside, as it had been all weekend, and the going was difficult. Shivering without her cloak, which she had not thought to fetch, Ninette stubbornly made her way down to the greenhouses. As she reached them, it occurred to her that Professor Snith was very likely not in the greenhouses, or that perhaps she had a class. Nevertheless, the wind was bitingly cold and she would at least stop inside to warm up before facing the journey back to the castle.
She was lucky “ only moments after she had stepped into Greenhouse Four, Professor Snith bustled in from the back room, looking rosy-cheeked and wispy as ever.
“Dear me!” she cried, starting in surprise to see Ninette. “Why, Miss Fairchild “ you look positively frozen! Oh, dear… whatever are you doing out without a cloak?” Ninette must have looked startled at her tone, because the Professor immediately began to apologize. “Oh, Miss Fairchild, I didn’t mean to… but you see, one does worry so. Why, if something should happen to you, I’d never… my dear, you must sit down!” With a wave of her wand the Professor conjured a chair, and before she knew it Ninette found herself sitting between rows of snapping bulrushes, covered in a warm blanket and sipping a hot cup of tea “ “Sugar? Cream?” Professor Snith had asked hesitantly, before pouring both out of her wand.
“There, dear, are you quite comfortable?” asked Professor Snith, conjuring a chair for herself.
Ninette nodded, wrapping her hands around the china cup. The dainty blue pattern of the flowers was unlike anything Aunt Edris had ever used, but it was surprisingly comforting. Leaning back into the soft chair she took a sip of tea and felt suddenly warm.
Professor Snith smiled. “I thought so. I am so happy to see you “ indeed, I was hoping you’d come by earlier! One likes so much to talk about one’s old friends… That is… You did wish to talk about your father, didn’t you?” She peered at Ninette anxiously.
“Yes, please,” Ninette stammered.
Beaming, Professor Snith reached out and took Ninette’s hand, her grasp warm and comforting. “Dear Cecil…” she said. “I was at school with his older brother, Hugh, but we never got on. Hugh was so proud of being a Peverell, you know “ and my mother was only a Muggleborn… and unmarried. And he was a Ravenclaw if I ever saw one, always with his head in a book. Cecil was different… he knew how to enjoy himself, something poor Hugh never did learn, I’m afraid. Did you “ pardon my asking “ did you know your uncle?”
Ninette, who had heard nothing of an uncle, shook her head.
“Well, I suppose he has been out of the country for a very long time “ indeed, he must have left soon after your father did! My! One does loose track of time, doesn’t one?” She sat in silence for a moment, reflecting. “But where were we? Oh, Cecil. Of course. He and I used to laugh at Hugh, for being so serious “ Hugh was always going on about the family tradition, you know, and Cecil and I thought he was ever so pompous. Indeed, Ninette“” She cut herself off with a little gasp. “Oh, my dear Miss Fairchild, I am sorry; one does slip so easily into using first names, even when it isn’t proper. Do forgive me?”
“Please,” said Ninette, “call me Ninette. I like it.”
“Really?” demanded Professor Snith. “You aren’t just saying that?”
Ninette smiled.
“Why, my dear Ninette!” exclaimed Professor Snith in excitement. “I knew there had to be some of Cecil in you! You look so like your mother, but I can see Cecil in your face when you smile. He had a lovely smile, he did “ and he was always laughing. The world was hard on him, poor dear, but he laughed back at it. I remember when he met your mother…”
“Oh!” interrupted Ninette. “Please tell me how he met my mother!”
“She was dancing in some ballet or other,” said Professor Snith reminiscently. “Giselle, I think it was. Do you know… did your mother ever dance Giselle?”
Ninette thought of the picture on her bedside table and nodded.
“Cecil had never been to the ballet. Wizards don’t know much about it, you know… I only knew because my mother loved it. We never had much money, but whenever there was a bit extra, she used to scrape it together to go to the ballet.” She laughed, a light, fluttering sort of laugh. “You must think me ever so silly, my dear, going on like this… it does bring back the memories so! How impractical it all seems now “ but then, one is never practical when looking at the things one has lost, is one?” For a moment she sat in silence, her face almost sad. Then she smiled.
“We went together, Cecil and I. He thought it was ridiculous; getting all dressed up in a Muggle suit, taking a taxi to the Opera House “ because we could hardly use Floo, could we? “ and of course he didn’t apparate. We had a box seat; I was wearing red silk “ and everywhere we went, people looked at us! Just fancy!
“Cecil kept on laughing, at the seats, at the Muggle clothes, at the lighting “ and then the curtain went up, and I have never seen a man so enthralled. From the moment Cynthia danced on, he didn’t take his eyes off her. It was love at first sight, I believe.” She paused, wistful. “One thinks it’s something that happens only in fairy tales, but then again, your mother was as beautiful as a princess, and Cecil… well, Cecil was brought up to be a prince.
“How does the ballet go? It was so long ago, and one does have trouble remembering… Do you know?”
“A prince disguises himself as a peasant, and Giselle is a village girl who falls in love with him,” said Ninette softly. She did not know her mother’s story, but she knew the stories of all the ballets her mother had ever danced in. “When she finds out that he is engaged to a princess she goes mad, and dies of a broken heart. Then the prince realizes he loved her, and the wilis “ spirits of girls who died of love before their weddings “ the wilis capture him and try to make him dance himself to death. Giselle saves him.”
“Yes, I remember! Such a sad story… Cecil was heartbroken at the end. And after! He would stop at nothing to find Cynthia. He waited at the back door until she came out, and when she saw him… Well, very few women could have helped falling in love with your father.
“They were inseparable after that “ went everywhere together. She took him to the Muggle parties, he took her to the wizarding ones. His family disapproved of her heartily; they were Peverells, of course, and for all that she was so beautiful, she was a Muggle “ and a dancing one, at that! The scandal of the wizarding world, it was. Some said their romance was what drove old Jasper Peverell to his grave!
“After Cecil’s father died, something went wrong. Jasper left more debts than anything else “ debts and a crumbling old mansion and a famous name. No one really knows what happened then. There was a fight, no question about that. Perhaps Cecil fought with Jasper, before he died, or perhaps Hugh blamed Cecil for their father’s death “ it’s not my place to say, though one can hardly help wondering. In any case, Cecil left the country, and as far as I can tell, no one’s heard from him since. Your mother went on dancing for a while, but I lost track of her “ I’m afraid I haven’t been to the ballet since Giselle. I never could muster up the courage to go without Cecil.
“But I was so sorry to hear when she died “ such a lovely woman! Tragic affair, really, the way he went off and left… But then again, that’s how it always happens with these fairytale people. Beautiful and wild and tragic, they always are. They’re far above the likes of us, you know…”
She placed a warm hand on Ninette’s shoulder. “Though you “ you have something of your parents in you. Cecil too, for all that you look like your mother. You may go on towards greatness, you know “ after all,” she said, with a funny, twisted smile, “you are half Peverell.”
They sat in silence for a moment until suddenly Professor Snith jumped up. “Oh!” she cried. “I nearly forgot! How silly I am…” Leaving Ninette sitting in the middle of the greenhouse, she hurried away through the door in the back. Before Ninette could begin to wonder whether she was supposed to be following, Professor Snith had reappeared, waving something in her hand.
“I was looking through my things the other night and I found this “ and as much as I love it, I thought it had better go to you.” Practically quivering in excitement she handed Ninette a photograph.
Ninette had seen wizarding photographs before; the other girls in her room had them hung all over “ her section of the wall was the only area that was blank, since her one picture of her mother stood in its frame on her bedside table. She had watched, fascinated, at the way the unfamiliar people in the pictures moved. She had spent several afternoons staring at the pictures of Tonks’ family, jumping every time she heard a sound for fear she would be discovered peeking into a life that was not hers. She had marveled at the way they waved, at the picture of Tonks with her beautiful mother and smiling father, building sandcastles on the beach.
Now Professor Snith had given her a moving picture of her own. In the photograph, Cecil and Cynthia stood in full evening dress, smiling at each other. For all their movement “ he tucked her hair behind her ear, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder “ they never stopped looking at each other.
For a few moments Ninette stared, forgetting all rules of politeness. “Thank you,” she said at last. Her aunt had taught her to refuse gifts politely “ ‘when people give you things, they think they can start making demands on you’ “ but Ninette did not even consider giving it up. “Thank you, Professor Snith.”
Professor Snith flushed. “Please,” she said, “don’t mention it. One does like to do what one can, and your father… Well… I think he would have wanted… That is…” She turned her head away and for a moment went very still. When she looked back at Ninette she was her usual self once again.
“My dear Ninette,” she said, and then paused, her eyes on the clock on the greenhouse wall. “How ever did it get to be… Why, you must get back to the castle before it gets dark. I wouldn’t want to be responsible… If ever something should happen to you! I have a class in a few minutes “ a special evening class, on dusk-blooming roses “ so it would probably be best if I sent you on your way.”
Ninette nodded, smiling as she put the picture safely in her bag. “Thank you,” she said again.
Professor Snith patted her once more on the shoulder. “My dear,” she said, her voice unusually low, “you are always welcome to come and speak with me. Always.” Her words hung warmly in the air as Ninette walked back to the castle through the snow.
Ninette nodded, putting the picture safely in her bag. “Thank you,” she said again, before returning to the castle.
For once she went into the Gryffindor room without her usual shyness; she did not hesitate even when Justine and Marianne stared at her from the window seat. Walking towards her bed, she took out the picture. She had watched the other girls do this as they plastered their walls with collages full of families and friends. Holding the photograph against the wall so that it was easily visible from the bed, she tapped it smartly with her wand. “Adhaere!” Somewhat to her surprise, it stuck.
“What’re you putting up?” asked Marianne as she and Justine walked casually over to look. “Who are they?”
“My parents,” answered Ninette, a touch of pride in her voice.
For a moment the two girls stared at the picture. “Fancy that,” said Justine at last, before she turned and, linking arms with Marianne, swept out of the room. Left alone in the empty dormitory, Ninette curled up on her bed. She fell asleep watching her parents’ smiling faces.
A Road of Shattered Glass by Ennalee
Chapter Notes: Thanks as always to my beta, hermionedancr, who faithfully puts up with all my quibbling.