It was finally beginning to snow.

Nevea loved the winter, even though she wasn't particularly fond of the cold.  She loved looking out of the windows and seeing the snowflakes sparkling in the sunlight.  She and her father used to play in the snow when she was a child, before he had died.  She didn't play in the snow anymore.  First of all, it would seem too common.  Nevea didn't want anyone to think she was childish or silly.  She wanted to be taken seriously.  As much as she wanted to let loose sometimes, she could never get up the courage to do it.  She settled for walking through the snow at a nice, even pace, admiring the snow that looked like diamonds on a sunny afternoon.  Her tutor had told her that she was named for the midwinter snow that had fallen the night she was conceived.  Nevea had wondered about it before; she was born in September, and she couldn't remember there ever being snow on her birthday.  Her tutor's explanation had helped her understand.

Today, she wasn't quite in the mood to go for a walk.  Instead, she wanted to go to the greenhouses and see the roses.  Roses of all kinds were her favorite flowers.  At her home away from school, there was a rose garden filled with red and white roses as well as primroses.  The red rose was for her mother, the white rose for her aunt, and the primroses were for her grandmother.  Of course, the primroses didn't look like the rest, but that seemed to make sense to Nevea.  Her grandmother had been blonde, unlike anyone else in her family.  Nevea had inherited her blue eyes.  Nevea had asked her mother as a child if one day she could pick a kind of rose to have planted in the garden.  Her mother had answered with a dismissive, "we'll see."  Nevea had always imagined for herself a rose that was both red and white at once, even though they were hard to come by.  Nevea was used to getting what she wanted, though.

Nevea quietly shut the door of the greenhouse behind her and smiled at the moist warmth of the building melted away the sting of the November cold.  She wandered around the varieties of plants for awhile.  She passed by all the plants of magical variety.  She just wanted the ordinary roses.  When she found them, she allowed a small smile to cross her lips.  The rose garden at home was her sanctuary whenever she wanted to escape the oppressive atmosphere of her mother's household.  It was where she went whenever she wanted to remember her father.  The rose bushes in the greenhouses at Hogwarts served a similar purpose.  She had just finished all of her classes for the day, and because of the way her schedule had been organized, all of her least favorite classes fell on the same day.  She felt like she was going to burst from the pressure of having to at least pay attention a little so that she could pass.  In reality, she wanted to bang her head against the desk during every history of magic class.  But that would not be proper, so she held in all her frustration and bit her tongue. 

She bent over and sniffed the roses, allowing their aroma to drift through her until her tight muscles relaxed and she could breathe a sigh of relief.  It was so quiet.  Nevea smiled again.  She silenced all the voices in her mind, most of which sounded like her mother, and she was able to calm down.  She could only do this when she was alone and away from the reminders of all that she was expected to do.  If she was near anyone or anything that could remind her, she went back into auto-mode--emotionless, cold, and reserved.  It was nice to get away from that every once in a while. 

Nevea's serenity was interrupted when she sensed that there was somebody else in the room.  She straightened up and turned away from the roses, looking at the intruder with a displeased glare.  They were not welcome, and Nevea wanted to see if she could get them to back off without having to say anything.  She didn't feel like disturbing the silence with her own voice, so she just stared coldly at the other person and hoped that it would scare them off.