Chapter 23
It was spring. Birds were singing, warm air was blowing up from the south, the lawns outside the castle were getting greener and greener by the minute. The general atmosphere outside seemed to be calling to us, but we did our best not to listen. We seventh years were frantically preparing for our NEWTs, the most important tests of our lives. In two weeks time I would be testing, and after that-- well, after that it would all be over.
I sighed and looked around the dormitory.
This is where I have spent most of my life. This is my home, and I'm about to leave it for god only knows what.
I closed the Ancient Runes book that I was attempting to study. It was no use trying to remember anything even remotely academic when nostalgia was taking over. I lied back on my bed and soaked in the silence. The dormitory had come to be the only place where I could concentrate. Even the Library had a quiet buzz of frantic energy that suffocated me and drove me crazy. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then reached under my bed and pulled out a small wooden box.
Like every silly schoolgirl, I kept the mementos in a box under my bed. There, was everything that had made up my life for the past two years: the handkerchief, the pearl ring, and the handful of notes that I had received during our brief "romance." I thought of it in the past because I had decided that I was tired of the "he loves me, he loves me not," inconsistency. I still loved him, but I made up my mind that I would go on with my life and remain a lonely spinster woman forever. I find it funny now that I think of it that I had resigned myself to being a spinster at the age of eighteen.
Impulsively, I picked up the box and went over to the fireplace. A few flames were crackling merrily in the hearth, attempting to warm the bitterly cold stone walls. I removed the pearl ring from the box and placed it on my bed.
That is Berthe's, not mine. I have no right to destroy it.
The rest I took one by one from the box and threw into the fire. First, the handkerchief went up in flames. Next, the first letter I received from Snape, then the next, and the next, and so on until every scrap was gone. Every scrap, except for the ring. I placed that on my finger for safekeeping and went to bed.
I woke in the morning much later than usual and wondered in a very annoyed way why no one had bothered to wake me up.
"Bloody hell," I muttered. "Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" I pulled on some slightly mismatched socks and swept my dark hair back in a very sloppy ponytail. I changed into my school uniform quickly, hastily slipped on my ugly school loafers, and threw my rumpled wizard robes over my head as I ran out the door.
My first class that day was—oddly enough—Potions, which I still hated, but for a different reason than last year. The year before, before the whole situation, I hated Potions because I hated Professor Snape.
Now, I thought matter-of-factly, I hate Potions because I love Professor Snape. How stupid.
My stomach growled ferociously, but there was no time to eat. If I was late to Potions… No matter what Professor Snape felt for me, he despised tardiness above all. I dashed down a corridor and almost knocked over Snarona Collins, who was going the other way.
"Oh, Meta," she said as I mumbled a quick apology. "We thought we'd let you sleep!" She called out.
"Yes, thanks a lot!" I called back to her sarcastically. I was definitely tired of everyone making concessions for me. I could just imagine what Sharona was thinking.
"That poor girl. First her mother dies, then her father, then her best friend, and now she's going to be late to Potions. Oh, and her hair is looking dreadful today…"
"Shut up, Sharona," I said to the snobby apparition I had conjured in my mind. "At least my hair doesn't look like a collie is sitting on my head."
I dashed sown the last flight of stairs, turned the corner, and was extremely relieved to see that the class had just begun to file into the room. I caught up with the rest of them and breathlessly took my seat at the table where Franco and I sat. The empty chair was yet another heart-wrenching reminder.
Snape made a dramatic entrance from his office with his sweeping robes and sour expression, but I knew it was just that-- drama.
He puts on a good play for the kiddies. And I used to be one of his audience too, once upon a time.
Now, I know that not all of it was an act. He really did hate most of them, or at least intensely disliked them, but not as much as he made them believe.
"Today," he began in his lowest tone, "we will review a potion that you should have mastered during your fifth year…"
My knack for zoning out on all of the unimportant things kicked in, and I soon began to let my mind wander.
"…addle-brains have forgotten…"
I began to recall the events the last year, how it had all come to be. It was that "D" he gave me on the report. I really should discuss that with him… no, bad idea. Just think, if I hadn't stormed into the classroom and gotten a detention, I wouldn't have found the diary, and if I hadn't found the diary…
"…should be simple, a mountain troll could do it…"
I remember that day in detention when he told me the diary was his mother's. His face… It was a look I had never seen before. I think that was the very moment when I knew I could love him.
"…ingredients are on the table, begin."
It seemed that I wasn't as good at daydreaming during class as I thought I was. Snape was expecting us to complete a potion from memory and I didn't even listen to him say what potion it was. I looked around nervously as the class went up to the front row by row and picked out their needed ingredients. Snape was passing back our papers from last week. He came up to the paper and nonchalantly tossed the paper on to the desk, then leaned down towards me.
"The Vomir Potion, Miss Cockerham. Please pay attention in the future," he said, barely above a whisper, but without an ounce of a sneer.
"Yes, sir," I squeaked back. I felt such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the man at that moment that I had to restrain myself from kissing him on the lips.
He was straightening up and about to walk away when he noticed the white glint on my finger. He froze. I had forgotten to take the pearl ring off that morning because I was in such a hurry. It was on the left ring finger, no less, as if I was trying to say that I intended to marry him.
His black eyes looked up from my hand and into mine. It was as if they were pleading, searching, begging for me to tell him some secret.
There is nothing to tell! I told you I loved you already, it is your turn now.
Our gaze was locked for a few seconds before he broke it to berate some poor Hufflepuff, but I found myself watching him the whole rest of the class period. My Vomir Potion was less than satisfactory, but he did not seem to notice or care.
I'm wearing the ring by accident, but he doesn't know that. Does he think I'm wearing it again because I want something from him? And what if I do?
It was maddening not to be able to know what he was thinking.
It was spring. Birds were singing, warm air was blowing up from the south, the lawns outside the castle were getting greener and greener by the minute. The general atmosphere outside seemed to be calling to us, but we did our best not to listen. We seventh years were frantically preparing for our NEWTs, the most important tests of our lives. In two weeks time I would be testing, and after that-- well, after that it would all be over.
I sighed and looked around the dormitory.
This is where I have spent most of my life. This is my home, and I'm about to leave it for god only knows what.
I closed the Ancient Runes book that I was attempting to study. It was no use trying to remember anything even remotely academic when nostalgia was taking over. I lied back on my bed and soaked in the silence. The dormitory had come to be the only place where I could concentrate. Even the Library had a quiet buzz of frantic energy that suffocated me and drove me crazy. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then reached under my bed and pulled out a small wooden box.
Like every silly schoolgirl, I kept the mementos in a box under my bed. There, was everything that had made up my life for the past two years: the handkerchief, the pearl ring, and the handful of notes that I had received during our brief "romance." I thought of it in the past because I had decided that I was tired of the "he loves me, he loves me not," inconsistency. I still loved him, but I made up my mind that I would go on with my life and remain a lonely spinster woman forever. I find it funny now that I think of it that I had resigned myself to being a spinster at the age of eighteen.
Impulsively, I picked up the box and went over to the fireplace. A few flames were crackling merrily in the hearth, attempting to warm the bitterly cold stone walls. I removed the pearl ring from the box and placed it on my bed.
That is Berthe's, not mine. I have no right to destroy it.
The rest I took one by one from the box and threw into the fire. First, the handkerchief went up in flames. Next, the first letter I received from Snape, then the next, and the next, and so on until every scrap was gone. Every scrap, except for the ring. I placed that on my finger for safekeeping and went to bed.
I woke in the morning much later than usual and wondered in a very annoyed way why no one had bothered to wake me up.
"Bloody hell," I muttered. "Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" I pulled on some slightly mismatched socks and swept my dark hair back in a very sloppy ponytail. I changed into my school uniform quickly, hastily slipped on my ugly school loafers, and threw my rumpled wizard robes over my head as I ran out the door.
My first class that day was—oddly enough—Potions, which I still hated, but for a different reason than last year. The year before, before the whole situation, I hated Potions because I hated Professor Snape.
Now, I thought matter-of-factly, I hate Potions because I love Professor Snape. How stupid.
My stomach growled ferociously, but there was no time to eat. If I was late to Potions… No matter what Professor Snape felt for me, he despised tardiness above all. I dashed down a corridor and almost knocked over Snarona Collins, who was going the other way.
"Oh, Meta," she said as I mumbled a quick apology. "We thought we'd let you sleep!" She called out.
"Yes, thanks a lot!" I called back to her sarcastically. I was definitely tired of everyone making concessions for me. I could just imagine what Sharona was thinking.
"That poor girl. First her mother dies, then her father, then her best friend, and now she's going to be late to Potions. Oh, and her hair is looking dreadful today…"
"Shut up, Sharona," I said to the snobby apparition I had conjured in my mind. "At least my hair doesn't look like a collie is sitting on my head."
I dashed sown the last flight of stairs, turned the corner, and was extremely relieved to see that the class had just begun to file into the room. I caught up with the rest of them and breathlessly took my seat at the table where Franco and I sat. The empty chair was yet another heart-wrenching reminder.
Snape made a dramatic entrance from his office with his sweeping robes and sour expression, but I knew it was just that-- drama.
He puts on a good play for the kiddies. And I used to be one of his audience too, once upon a time.
Now, I know that not all of it was an act. He really did hate most of them, or at least intensely disliked them, but not as much as he made them believe.
"Today," he began in his lowest tone, "we will review a potion that you should have mastered during your fifth year…"
My knack for zoning out on all of the unimportant things kicked in, and I soon began to let my mind wander.
"…addle-brains have forgotten…"
I began to recall the events the last year, how it had all come to be. It was that "D" he gave me on the report. I really should discuss that with him… no, bad idea. Just think, if I hadn't stormed into the classroom and gotten a detention, I wouldn't have found the diary, and if I hadn't found the diary…
"…should be simple, a mountain troll could do it…"
I remember that day in detention when he told me the diary was his mother's. His face… It was a look I had never seen before. I think that was the very moment when I knew I could love him.
"…ingredients are on the table, begin."
It seemed that I wasn't as good at daydreaming during class as I thought I was. Snape was expecting us to complete a potion from memory and I didn't even listen to him say what potion it was. I looked around nervously as the class went up to the front row by row and picked out their needed ingredients. Snape was passing back our papers from last week. He came up to the paper and nonchalantly tossed the paper on to the desk, then leaned down towards me.
"The Vomir Potion, Miss Cockerham. Please pay attention in the future," he said, barely above a whisper, but without an ounce of a sneer.
"Yes, sir," I squeaked back. I felt such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the man at that moment that I had to restrain myself from kissing him on the lips.
He was straightening up and about to walk away when he noticed the white glint on my finger. He froze. I had forgotten to take the pearl ring off that morning because I was in such a hurry. It was on the left ring finger, no less, as if I was trying to say that I intended to marry him.
His black eyes looked up from my hand and into mine. It was as if they were pleading, searching, begging for me to tell him some secret.
There is nothing to tell! I told you I loved you already, it is your turn now.
Our gaze was locked for a few seconds before he broke it to berate some poor Hufflepuff, but I found myself watching him the whole rest of the class period. My Vomir Potion was less than satisfactory, but he did not seem to notice or care.
I'm wearing the ring by accident, but he doesn't know that. Does he think I'm wearing it again because I want something from him? And what if I do?
It was maddening not to be able to know what he was thinking.