Chapter 18
The owl I received the next day said,
Sorry it was late. Happy Birthday.
"Um, Franco?" I looked at Franco who was gobbling down some porridge.
"Wha?" He mumbled through the food.
"Did you…"
"Did I," he swallowed roughly. "Send you the ring?"
"Well, did you?"
"No," he said, and turned back to his bowl. "But I bet I know who did."
It was best not to answer. When he got that way, it was a good idea to change the subject.
"So, that Arithmancy quiz yesterday was really hard, wasn't it?"
"Yep." He didn't look up.
Damn. He was in one of those moods again. When he got into them he would be gloomy and brooding for the whole rest of the day. Maybe I should just snog him to make him feel better… It's probably bound to happen anyway.
The day after that:
The ring was my mother's.
Franco pretended not to notice it. Either he is very good at pretending, or he really didn't send the ring.
And the day after that:
Look on the inside of the band.
I glanced at Franco. He seemed genuinely distracted by Leila telling the table a story about her uncle and a vampire. I looked at the staff table. Snape seemed to be listening to Professor McGonnagall. I slipped the ring off of my finger and tilted it toward the light. Inside of the thin gold band, in miniscule script were the words,
To my dearest Berthe, from your father.
I almost choked. It is him after all. What is he playing at, giving me his dead mother's ring? I jammed the ring back on my finger and excused myself from the table. I felt his damn eyes boring into my head again. Why is he doing this to me? He's only a tease in a long black cloak!
That evening, much to my frustration, an owl came to the window of the dormitory as I was lying on top of my bed.
"Not you." I glared at the bird, and it hooted as if to say, "Ha, ha, ha." I took the rolled up piece of parchment, but the snotty bird didn't fly away.
I seem to have upset you.
"No, really," I said sarcastically. "Oh, so he wants me to reply, does he?" I asked the owl.
"Hoot."
"Fine, then!" I ripped a piece of parchment off of a scroll and quickly scribbled a short note.
Please leave me alone.
I was about to send it off, but changed my mind. I scribbled it out and rewrote it, more tactfully this time.
Professor Snape,
Please, please do not bother me if you can't or won't make anything of it. I thank you for the ring, but I am afraid I will be forced to return it if you do not show me how you really feel. I mean it.
I sent it off and paced the floor. What seemed like centuries passed and the owl finally returned.
Meta,
Keep the ring. I mean it, too.
–Severus
So, in his own way, he told me, finally, that he loved me. But I still ached for him to show it. I knew he couldn't, because he was my teacher, but I couldn't help feeling that the short letters he began to send me almost every night were somewhat lacking. Each evening, like clockwork, another message came. They consisted of the same "how are you" incessant small talk each time, which was so unlike him. I never knew what to say in reply, so I answered his questions. The letters were certainly not "love letters". If anyone ever intercepted them they might think that we were twelve-year-old pen pals, shyly chatting for the first time.
After weeks of it, I ran out of sensible questions to ask, so I finally got down to the nitty-gritty.
When are you going to come rescue me, already?
The pause was longer than usual, but the response was considerably shorter.
I think I've done that quite a few times already.
"Not funny," I mumbled to myself and scrawled a reply.
You know what I mean. I'm serious. I want to hear you say it, in person. Do you love me or not?
I didn't know I could be that gutsy, but someone had to be. Snape acted all tough and such, but when it came down to it, he was just another shy man. In fact, Franco had something on him. At least Franco had the guts to tell me that he liked me, face to face.
The reply came back twenty minutes later.
We can discuss it during the spring break.
Damn him.