Somewhere in the winter of sixth year, something changed. I couldn't exactly point out what it was, but there was something… something was not right in me. I was cold all the time, no matter what the temperature was. I didn't care about my schoolwork, suddenly. I tuned everything out, content to stare out the window, seemingly waiting for something. The only classes that could hold my attention were Potions, as Snape was notoriously hard to please (not to mention there were no windows), and Astronomy, for the simple reason that it consisted of staring out a window. I let myself sink into my core, shutting my meager supply of friends out, becoming more and more withdrawn. People began to notice that I stopped speaking up in class, stopped laughing… stopped living. Even the new Astronomy teacher, Aurora Sinistra, noticed, and she hadn't known me for very long.
"Miss Van… Cypress, is everything okay? You seem to be really down." she held me back after class one day in early spring. I smiled at her and lied through my teeth.
"I'm fine." I felt a jolt in my stomach as I looked into her brown eyes and bit my lip. I did not like lying to her, and my stomach settling somewhere in the general region of the dungeons, right near my dorms, proved it. "I'm just tired. All this extra work, you know?" Professor Sinistra nodded slowly before letting me go back to my dorm. I blinked back the tears that gathered in my eyes.
"Stop it, Cypress. You are a Von Rothbert, and Von Rothberts do not show emotion." I hissed to myself, startling some portraits into wakefulness. I shook my head angrily and slammed the door behind me as I entered my room, completely alone. No other girl Slytherins were in my year… and the other girls in my year seemed to be obsessed with boys and make-up and giggling, while I liked quiet and aloneness. It worked for all.
As the year progressed, my mental state continued to spiral downward. I was accustomed to death, as He had visited my family early in my life, killing my mother and two unborn brothers in the child-birthing room. Father never really recovered. I was five. So it should not have come as a great shock when I looked at the linens on my bed and wondered… but no. I had a test that day, one that I had studied too much for to not take. It took me a long time to realize what I was thinking of, and even longer to realize why that should bother me. I shrugged, every morning struggling to find a reason to not kill myself that day. Sometimes it was a test, or someone's birthday… most days, I would think only of how devastated Professor Sinistra would be. I had written a will one day, in anticipation of that evening (which had never happened, as I was given a detention by Snape), and I had asked her to be the eulogizer. She seemed so passionate, about everything. She was the nicest teacher I had ever had.
One day I was sitting in her classroom, following her every move with my eyes lazily, almost second nature by now. But it was then that I made a startling discovery; I liked a teacher in an entirely non-legal way. Not only was she twenty- nine, thirteen years my senior, but girls can't, no, shouldn't like other girls. It's just unnatural. Nay, more than liked: I might be able to love her, eventually. Something about her drew me in, made me feel comfortable around her. She asked me a second time a few days after I realized this. It was now late spring, nearly three weeks before the end of school.
"Cypress, are you sure that you're okay? You seem to have lost that spark that you used to have, that fire."
I smiled at her sadly, pausing for a long time before responding. "I'm fine." I couldn't bring myself to invent an excuse for her this time. I merely pushed past her and ran out of the room, my bag lying forgotten on the floor. I dashed into the nearest bathroom and leaned against a wall, tears silently streaming down my face. I heard her voice outside the door, calling my name. I quickly tapped my wand over my head and hid myself, seconds before she poked her head in the bathroom. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought that she had seen me, but she left the bathroom. I waited until her footsteps had faded before revealing myself again.
She returned my bag the next day, asking me at breakfast to accompany her up to her rooms, as she had forgotten it there. She had the decency to wait until we were in her rooms to ask me why I had run.
I ran I hand through my hair. I did not want to tell her, but I had a strong suspicion that she would not let it go, even next year. "Because I hate having to lie, especially to you." I uttered, low enough that she might not have heard.
"Why are you lying? About what?" she asked gently, leaning against the wall, pulling her robes taught against her form. It was not making this any easier.
"Please…" I pleaded, not entirely sure as to what I was pleading for.
"Please what?"
I shrugged.
"So, spill. What's bothering you? Boy troubles?" She tried teasing. I closed my eyes for a long time, breathed deep.
"No." The opposite, in fact.
"Then what? I miss seeing the old Cypress. She was passionate, fiery. You… you just aren't. So what's up? I'm concerned for you. I don't like where this is heading; it scares me."
I whirled around, banging my hand on the wall, leaving spots of red blood to clash with the grey stones.
"Stop it! I can't… can't," I sobbed into the wall, cold as I felt inside. "God's, I'm so fucked up. Everything is so fucked up."
"Why?" Came the gentle response, not even chastising me for my language.
"Because I'm spiraling into ever deeper depths of my own mind, unable to find a way out!" I cried, whipping around once again to look at her, wiping my hand across my face, effectively spreading blood around it. "Because I'm in fucking love." I finished in a whisper, not daring to look at her.
"With who?" She asked, pulling my face up with her hand. I blinked at her once before pressing myself to her, kissing her with all the passion left in my battered body. I backed off of her when I- we- needed air. She slowly brought a surprised hand up to her lips as I grabbed my bag and ran, terrified with that kiss, implanted in my brain. I ran to my dorms, where I remained for the better part of a week, until she came to bring me down. I turned away from her, hiding my pale face from her sight.
"We need to talk about that." She said abruptly.
"There's nothing to talk about. It's illegal, and you aren't… aren't like me."
"A faggot?" She asked.
"Yeah." My mouth twisted in wry amusement.
"No, I'm not. And I never will be."
"Then I don't see what we need to talk about. Just leave me alone." I curled around myself even more.
"You're killing yourself in here."
"That's the general idea, yes." I mumbled to myself, tuning her out. Eventually, I heard her get up and move away, back down the stairs.
She came back up the next day with a thin soup that she practically forced into me. As soon as she left, I made myself throw it back up. I did not want this. I did not want life. She repeated this routine for many more days, until I was sure that school had been let out for the summer. I was wasting away day by day; my pajamas no longer fit, and my bones were sticking out from my body at odd angles. Then one day came when she did not come to see me. I roused myself from my bed and struggled to get to the Astronomy Tower, a journey that had once taken only ten minutes, but now took the better part of two hours. I did not see a single person in this entire time. When I got to the Tower, I peered around every corner, looking for her. Suddenly I heard her unmistakable voice, followed by an unknown masculine voice. I followed them to her private study and pushed the door farther open, to see her and Snape, my head of House, in deep discussion about something. I blinked slowly, feeling my lashes brush across the wood of the door, before turning slowly and making my way towards the balcony of the tower. I stared at the grounds, so small they were a blur of greens and browns, with one small ant making it's way towards Hagrid's hut. I cast one more glance at the half-open door before gently lowering myself onto the opposite side.
"Miss Von Rothbert." Snape's voice floated to me on the wind.
"You don't want to do this, Cypress." Professor Sinistra said firmly, yet gently at the same time… pleading with me.
I turned to face her, a small smile on my face. "Yes I do."
Can anyone help? Please, anyone?
