Chapter 20
"What?"
"He's gone, Meta," Snape said softly and reached out to touch my arm, but I backed away.
"This isn't funny," I said angrily.
"I'm not trying to be."
"I saw him earlier today. I saw him a few hours ago!" My yells echoed through the corridor.
"His family was in a car accident going home from the train station."
"Shut up," I said quietly. I wished I could close up my ears to block out all of the lies, but he kept on talking.
"I'm sorry Meta--"
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" I shrieked. I was so angry, so very angry. Why is he lying to me? Doesn't he see that I don't think it's funny? It's not funny at all!
"Meta, please! Calm down!" He grabbed my arms and tried to pin them to my sides but I wriggled free. "He's gone, Meta. He's dead."
"Stop lying!" I pounded on his chest with my fists. I wanted to hurt him for saying such horrible things.
"It's not true! It's not!" I closed my eyes and flailed my arms at him. I hit him as hard as could but he never said a word. He just stood there and let me smack him until I became exhausted. Suddenly I felt very weak. Finally the tears came rushing down my cheeks, springing out of my eyes with the realization of the bitter truth. I felt his arms pull me in toward him.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. His hands stroked my hair and I backed away again, afraid that someone would see us. I looked up into his face. There was not a trace of anger or disgust in his eyes. His mouth was relaxed, not pinched. He was sincere, wholly and completely sincere. "I'm sorry Meta," he said again.
I closed my eyes. I could not look into his face anymore. It was too intense. The tears continued to trickle down my face, but before they reached my chin, Snape's long fingers gently brushed them away. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then so softly he kissed each eyelid, swollen and sore from crying. His lips barely brushed my skin. It was as if they were feathers. He touched my cheek once more.
"Come on, I'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will give you something to help you sleep."
As he lead me up the stone staircases, his hand protectively hovering at my back, I remember how grateful I felt that he hadn't kissed me on the lips. It would not have been right.
"What?"
"He's gone, Meta," Snape said softly and reached out to touch my arm, but I backed away.
"This isn't funny," I said angrily.
"I'm not trying to be."
"I saw him earlier today. I saw him a few hours ago!" My yells echoed through the corridor.
"His family was in a car accident going home from the train station."
"Shut up," I said quietly. I wished I could close up my ears to block out all of the lies, but he kept on talking.
"I'm sorry Meta--"
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" I shrieked. I was so angry, so very angry. Why is he lying to me? Doesn't he see that I don't think it's funny? It's not funny at all!
"Meta, please! Calm down!" He grabbed my arms and tried to pin them to my sides but I wriggled free. "He's gone, Meta. He's dead."
"Stop lying!" I pounded on his chest with my fists. I wanted to hurt him for saying such horrible things.
"It's not true! It's not!" I closed my eyes and flailed my arms at him. I hit him as hard as could but he never said a word. He just stood there and let me smack him until I became exhausted. Suddenly I felt very weak. Finally the tears came rushing down my cheeks, springing out of my eyes with the realization of the bitter truth. I felt his arms pull me in toward him.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. His hands stroked my hair and I backed away again, afraid that someone would see us. I looked up into his face. There was not a trace of anger or disgust in his eyes. His mouth was relaxed, not pinched. He was sincere, wholly and completely sincere. "I'm sorry Meta," he said again.
I closed my eyes. I could not look into his face anymore. It was too intense. The tears continued to trickle down my face, but before they reached my chin, Snape's long fingers gently brushed them away. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then so softly he kissed each eyelid, swollen and sore from crying. His lips barely brushed my skin. It was as if they were feathers. He touched my cheek once more.
"Come on, I'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will give you something to help you sleep."
As he lead me up the stone staircases, his hand protectively hovering at my back, I remember how grateful I felt that he hadn't kissed me on the lips. It would not have been right.