Chapter 11
I felt his hand linger on mine for half an hour, like a ghost come back to haunt me. The thing about it was that I welcomed this particular ghost. What had made Snape, who shows no affection, and never in the form of physical contact, grasp my hand like that? What was he trying to do? Perhaps, I reasoned, it was a moment of confusion. It had been a long night, after all, and Azkaban plays with one's head. He was not quite right after going there. He hid it well, but not well enough. That was why he held my hand. Yes, that's it, and don't dwell on it any longer.
The rest of the Christmas holiday went by slowly and uneventfully. I slept late most mornings and ate at odd times. I rarely ever got dressed or combed my hair. I wanted to relax and be lazy, and not have to think about Shue, or the dementors, or anything. The only time I really put anything besides pajamas on was the day that Franco came to visit. He brought gifts of flowers and chocolate and many apologies.
"It's my fault," he said guilitily. "You could have been... It's my fault."
I told him that there was nothing he could have done, and he didn't need to apologize, and I pleaded him to stop being so gloomy, but it didn't do much good.
He will be alright, I told myself. He needs time to cope. He'll be fine when we're back at Hogwarts. It was as if he was the one who had been kidnapped. I denied myself the truth. I hid it away with pajamas and pancakes at three in the afternoon.
Good job, I commended myself. You've gone the whole end of the break without thinking of Professor Snape once, and now it's the first day of classes and the only reason you're thinking about him now is because you are going to the dungeons to Potions Class and since Professor Snape teaches Potions Class there is nothing bad or wrong or strange about htinking about him now, is there?
Shut up, you babbling liar, snapped the little voice. It's bad enough when you lie to other people, but it's the absolute worst when you lie to your self. Shame, shame.
Franco was chattering mindlessly next to me as we walked to the classroom together, but as we crossed the treshold he instantly fell silent, his fear for Snape still evident. We sat in our usual seats and I glanced briefly at Snape who was bending over some papers at his desk. Without meaning to, I looked at him a second time. Something was different about him. I could see that at the first glance, but what was it? I studied his mostly hidden face and saw that it no longer had such a terrible gray shade to it. He lifted his head and his dark hair fell away from his face. My breath caught in my throat, which I covered up with a fake cough. He looked almost handsome and elegant at that moment. He appeared to be much, much better than when I had seen him last. Evidently, Shue's blackmailing and hassling had taken it's toll, and now that he was free of Shue forever, his health seemed to have improved. A few months, maybe even weeks before, I may not have noticed the subtle change in his skin tone, the slightly relaxed lines around his mouth, the lightening of his under eye circles, but I was more perceptive now, and he certainly was a changed man.
I soon noticed that I was not the only one looking at Snape. Nearly the entire class, Franco included, was watching Snape, waiting.
Can't you see it? Don't you see it? They did not. They were still waiting for proof. You see, there was no way to keep my kidnapping a secret, and since everyone knew about that, naturally, they knew of my daring rescue by Severus Snape. The only thing they did not know was Shue's relationship to Snape, or why it had been me who Shue chose to kidnap. These were things that not even the Daily Prophet could uncover. I myself never read the numerous articles about Snape or about myself, but everyone else had. Now they were expecting a newer, kinder, Snape.
"What are you dunderheads staring at?" Snape crossly snapped at the class and his brief elegant expression was cast away to be replaced with the good old sneer.
Tough luck, I wanted to say to the class. No new Snape today, as far as you can tell.
"Directions on the board, don't make me say it twice."
And so, with that, everyone forgot about getting a new Snape, and turned their attention and gossip toward me. The first week back of school was nothing but whispers of "I heard she's deranged now, after the incident", and "She only wants attention", or "Her aunt hired Shue to do it".
"That's a good theory," I said to a second-year Hufflepuff one day as I overheard her going into detail about the illicit love affair between Shue and my Aunt. "If I didn't know the truth, I'd be inclined to believe that one myself." The girl and her friend scampered away.
"This isn't fair, Franco. Snape is a hero now, and I am a pity-grabbing weakling."
"I know you're not a weakling," Franco said. "I'm the weakling who let himself get his memory wiped."
"Franco, stop it, at least they didn't put your name in the articles. I feel like I did after my dad died." I sighed, remembering how it was last year. "Why is everyone always so interested in my life? It's not that exciting, honestly."
"No, it's really not," Franco said in agreement.
I felt his hand linger on mine for half an hour, like a ghost come back to haunt me. The thing about it was that I welcomed this particular ghost. What had made Snape, who shows no affection, and never in the form of physical contact, grasp my hand like that? What was he trying to do? Perhaps, I reasoned, it was a moment of confusion. It had been a long night, after all, and Azkaban plays with one's head. He was not quite right after going there. He hid it well, but not well enough. That was why he held my hand. Yes, that's it, and don't dwell on it any longer.
The rest of the Christmas holiday went by slowly and uneventfully. I slept late most mornings and ate at odd times. I rarely ever got dressed or combed my hair. I wanted to relax and be lazy, and not have to think about Shue, or the dementors, or anything. The only time I really put anything besides pajamas on was the day that Franco came to visit. He brought gifts of flowers and chocolate and many apologies.
"It's my fault," he said guilitily. "You could have been... It's my fault."
I told him that there was nothing he could have done, and he didn't need to apologize, and I pleaded him to stop being so gloomy, but it didn't do much good.
He will be alright, I told myself. He needs time to cope. He'll be fine when we're back at Hogwarts. It was as if he was the one who had been kidnapped. I denied myself the truth. I hid it away with pajamas and pancakes at three in the afternoon.
Good job, I commended myself. You've gone the whole end of the break without thinking of Professor Snape once, and now it's the first day of classes and the only reason you're thinking about him now is because you are going to the dungeons to Potions Class and since Professor Snape teaches Potions Class there is nothing bad or wrong or strange about htinking about him now, is there?
Shut up, you babbling liar, snapped the little voice. It's bad enough when you lie to other people, but it's the absolute worst when you lie to your self. Shame, shame.
Franco was chattering mindlessly next to me as we walked to the classroom together, but as we crossed the treshold he instantly fell silent, his fear for Snape still evident. We sat in our usual seats and I glanced briefly at Snape who was bending over some papers at his desk. Without meaning to, I looked at him a second time. Something was different about him. I could see that at the first glance, but what was it? I studied his mostly hidden face and saw that it no longer had such a terrible gray shade to it. He lifted his head and his dark hair fell away from his face. My breath caught in my throat, which I covered up with a fake cough. He looked almost handsome and elegant at that moment. He appeared to be much, much better than when I had seen him last. Evidently, Shue's blackmailing and hassling had taken it's toll, and now that he was free of Shue forever, his health seemed to have improved. A few months, maybe even weeks before, I may not have noticed the subtle change in his skin tone, the slightly relaxed lines around his mouth, the lightening of his under eye circles, but I was more perceptive now, and he certainly was a changed man.
I soon noticed that I was not the only one looking at Snape. Nearly the entire class, Franco included, was watching Snape, waiting.
Can't you see it? Don't you see it? They did not. They were still waiting for proof. You see, there was no way to keep my kidnapping a secret, and since everyone knew about that, naturally, they knew of my daring rescue by Severus Snape. The only thing they did not know was Shue's relationship to Snape, or why it had been me who Shue chose to kidnap. These were things that not even the Daily Prophet could uncover. I myself never read the numerous articles about Snape or about myself, but everyone else had. Now they were expecting a newer, kinder, Snape.
"What are you dunderheads staring at?" Snape crossly snapped at the class and his brief elegant expression was cast away to be replaced with the good old sneer.
Tough luck, I wanted to say to the class. No new Snape today, as far as you can tell.
"Directions on the board, don't make me say it twice."
And so, with that, everyone forgot about getting a new Snape, and turned their attention and gossip toward me. The first week back of school was nothing but whispers of "I heard she's deranged now, after the incident", and "She only wants attention", or "Her aunt hired Shue to do it".
"That's a good theory," I said to a second-year Hufflepuff one day as I overheard her going into detail about the illicit love affair between Shue and my Aunt. "If I didn't know the truth, I'd be inclined to believe that one myself." The girl and her friend scampered away.
"This isn't fair, Franco. Snape is a hero now, and I am a pity-grabbing weakling."
"I know you're not a weakling," Franco said. "I'm the weakling who let himself get his memory wiped."
"Franco, stop it, at least they didn't put your name in the articles. I feel like I did after my dad died." I sighed, remembering how it was last year. "Why is everyone always so interested in my life? It's not that exciting, honestly."
"No, it's really not," Franco said in agreement.