I stay in my room for two days straight, refusing to go outside. I didn't want to go to the library and risk getting in trouble again and it was too cold to go outside. Those were really my only two options, so I just stayed in my room, munching on granola bars to get me through the day. I wonder what my parents are doing right now. I wonder if they will actually make them forget me before Christmas, or if they'll at least wait until after the holidays are over. I know it's pointless to dwell over things that I'll never know the answer to, but it gives me something to do until my roommates return from break and classes resume.
Eventually, a knock on the door steals me from my thoughts. Figuring it's Professor Grabiner again, I decide to ignore it, until I hear Professor Potsdam's voice call through the door. "Oh sweetheart, are you in there?"
"Coming," I call quickly. I push myself out of bed and open the door to see her standing there, beaming at me.
"Oh, don't you look chipper this morning," she says. I'm pretty sure chipper isn't a word to describe someone that hasn't showered in two days, but I wasn't about to argue. I stare at her, waiting. "I actually have a special assignment for you today."
"Special assignment?" I echo.
"Yes," she says. "Today is Christmas!"
"Oh." My face falls. "So do I need to like, deliver presents to people who are staying or something?"
"Oh, no no, nothing like that dear," she says. "Actually, I would like you to spend the day with Hieronymous."
"What?" I ask flatly. I've been spending the past two days deciding that I never wanted to talk to him again. Sure I knew what happened wasn't exactly his fault, but he still yelled at me, and I was getting tired of his mercurial moods.
"It's Christmas, you shouldn't be alone on Christmas," she says.
"I can find somebody," I offer.
"I want you to spend it with Hieronymous," she winks at me. "If you prefer, you can consider this your punishment."
"It's better than losing my magic," I mutter. "Okay, can I at least shower first?"
"Go ahead," she says. "Remember, we're between classes right now. You don't need to wear your robes all the time."
"Noted," I say. She waves at me, and I disappear inside of my room. Spend the day with Grabby? Great, that will make my Christmas loads better.
After my shower, I throw on my jeans, a plain navy blue tee shirt, and a hoodie with my sneakers. It seemed simple, but honestly that was pretty much entirely what my wardrobe consisted of: sneakers, hoodies, jeans, and tee shirts. Considering I had to wear my robes every day for class and I usually just stayed in my pajamas on the weekend, I didn't really need anything else. I walk across the quad, determined not to get there any faster than I have to. I trudge over to his room, knocking as lightly as possible in the hopes that he won't even hear it.
Regardless, he comes to the door anyway, and I look down, not meeting his eyes. Before he says anything, I offer the reason I'm here. "Professor Potsdam would like me to spend Christmas with you, sir."
He's silent for a moment, and I realize my neck actually sort of hurts staring down like this. "And you came?" He sounds almost surprised.
"It was supposed to be my punishment, but if you don't want me to be here, I should go," I say, quickly turning around.
He sighs. "No, come in."
"Really, I-"
"If you go back to your room, she'll know," he says, and I sigh. He's right. I close my eyes and reluctantly follow him inside.
The room's the same as it's always been, and I wait for him to take a seat at his desk. "If you want, you can-"
"I'll sit here, thanks," I say, walking across the room and taking a seat on the floor in front of the window. Unfortunately, I'm too low to see out of it, and I end up staring just beneath the window ledge.
"You'll have a better view if you sit on the bed," he offers. I want to argue, but the floor is cold and so I quickly hop up onto the bed, staring despondently out the window. A flicker of recognition that this is where he sleeps crosses through me, but I don't want to dwell on it. At least focusing on how unhappy I am will distract me from any inappropriate thoughts, like how Professor Grabiner looks when he's sleeping or the fact that this is where I was lying in that extremely inappropriate dream of mine.
I don't know how long I sit there, staring at the snowflakes brushing softly against the window, when he finally sighs and stands up. "Well, you might as well talk to me."
"There's nothing to talk about," I shrug.
"It's awfully hard to focus when you're-"
"I should leave then," I say, but I make no move to get up.
"Stay," he says. There's a hint of frustration in his voice. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now."
"Hmm," I mutter. I don't really feel compelled to say much more than that, let alone argue with him. I don't really want to talk to him at all, and I think he registers this, as it's a few minutes before he speaks again.
"My mother died when I was very young," he says softly. "I don't really remember her. As in most magical families, I wasn't raised by my parents. My father lived in the Otherworld and I was raised by foster parents, if you will."
"I'm sorry," I say softly. My voice sounds hollow. Why is he telling me this? Is this supposed to be some sort of apology? "Are you close to them? Your foster parents, I mean?"
"Their memories were wiped when I left for school," he says. "They don't remember who I am."
"Oh." I look down at my hands, twisting them in my lap. I'm not quite sure what to say. "Do you miss them at all?"
"No," he replies, and I can tell by his tone that he really doesn't. It must be easy being him, leaving people in the past and never looking back. I don't know if he's trying to relate to me by trying to tell me I'll get over it eventually, but if it is, it's not something I want to hear right now.
When I don't say anything, he sighs. "This is my fault," he says. "Don't think I don't know that. If I hadn't yelled at you about the book, you never would have-"
"It's not your fault," I say seriously. "Don't even think it. Professor Potsdam gave me a choice, and I made my decision."
"Tori-"
"Have you ever done something that you know is your fault?" I ask him. "Like, something where it's really easy to blame it on another person, but you insist on making it your fault instead?"
"An increasing amount, as of late," he mutters. I ignore his tone and go on.
"Then I think you know already," I say as I continue to stare out the window. "That it's actually harder to blame someone else? I mean, I always thought it was easier, but it's not. It's easier to just blame myself because then I can just keep it all inside, if that makes any sense. I don't know, if I blame myself then it means I don't have to hate anyone else."
He sighs. "Is this your way of saying that you don't hate me?"
"Trying not to, at least," I say as a smirk touches my lips. He chuckles at that, and I decide to press my luck. "Can I ask you something, actually, about the book?"
He sighs. "You may ask, but I can't guarantee I'll answer."
"Fair enough," I shrug. "I guess it's not really something of a question, anyway. I mean, I didn't obviously read the whole book, but I did read the first part that talked about memory wiping and obviously no one talks to people afterwards to know for sure…" I let my voice trail off. "But there was a part that talked about impressions, feelings. That after you get your mind wiped, you can still feel things, like towards people."
He waits silently for me to continue. "So, even with your memory wiped, or I guess if you have a memory shield up to, you can still feel love towards another person without knowing why, right? Like, if I did go back to my parents – and I know, I know, I'm not going to, but if I did go back to my parents, they would still feel that they loved me. They would still feel something there. And they wouldn't know they were my parents and they wouldn't know why they were feeling it because they wouldn't remember anything about me, but they would still feel it, right?" I peek at him sheepishly.
"I suppose," he shrugs, but he looks uncomfortable.
"I can't imagine a worse form of torture," I mope, slumping on the bed. "To have your memory wiped seems bad enough, but to remember that you love someone, but can't remember who or why…that's terrible."
He sighs and sits down next to me on the bed. We're extremely close, but I don't pull away. "About twelve years ago, I loved a girl named Violet," he tells me. "She was everything to me, and-" he sighs and looks away. "We went into the Otherworld together. She made a mistake in her warding, and suffice to say, we got kidnapped by goblins. Her spirit was devoured right in front of me."
I bite my lip and just listen. My heart is pumping with our proximity and with this new knowledge that he was entrusting me with. I focus hard on every word. "It would be easy to blame her, wouldn't it? I mean, she screwed up the warding, but I should have checked it first. I can think of a million things I should have done to save her, but I don't blame her for anything. It's my fault she died."
Despair lingers in his voice and my heart pounds in my ears. Is this why he spends all of his time alone? Is he still mourning her? Over twelve years later? "I'm sorry," I say softly. I force myself to look away from him as I feel a deep pain in my chest. I can't watch him miss her, for some reason, it's just too painful.
He shakes his head quickly. "It's confusing," he admits. I'm not quite sure what he's confused about, but he continues. "Last year I was doing something, something that I admittedly shouldn't have been doing, playing with magic a bit outside my control." He sighs. "I was doing an experiment when I got knocked out. A…" he hesitates. "Foolish student decided to try to save me, almost dying in the process."
"There were consequences, for both of us, and at first all I could do was blame everyone around me," he sighs. "For some reason, it wasn't easy to admit that it was my fault. I wanted to blame the student. For some reason I thought it would be easier, I suppose, but it didn't work." He smiles at me, but it's a soft, familiar smile. "In the end, I suppose I realized why."
I pause and shift on the bed. The itching is starting to return, but I don't dare grab the stone in front of him. Instead I twist on a strand of hair around my finger and pull on it, trying to ignore the pain emanating from my roots. "Who was the student?"
"That would be telling." I feel like he almost wants to make it into some sort of joke, but I can't help but hear the sadness reflected in his voice.
"And the consequences?" I push.
He just shakes his head, and I let silence fall between us. I had taken off my snowy sneakers by the door and now pull my feet onto the bed so I can bury my mouth in my knees and grab the stone a bit more subtly. For some reason, I can feel it almost start pulsing immediately, despite the fact that I'm not really thinking happy thoughts right now. In fact, I doubt I would even be able to focus on something happy if I tried. There's a deep ache resonating from somewhere in my chest, and I'm only half-certain I know where it's coming from, but I decide to speak up anyway.
"It's really sad," I murmur through the denim.
"Mmm?" he asks.
I sigh. I don't want to say the words. It's not my business, and yet it still hurts me in a way I can't explain. "You still love her, twelve years later." I squirm uncomfortably. "I guess that's why you spend so much time alone, right? Because you don't want to get hurt that badly again?" When he doesn't say anything, I continue. "I just…it makes sense, but it's still sad." I turn to look at him. "I don't think you'll ever get over her, but do you think you'd ever, I don't know, open up to someone else again?"
He smiles sadly. "Perhaps," he says as he looks away.
It's all too sad, too overwhelming, and I need to change the mood between us. With a sigh and a frustrated push, I jump off the bed. I stand in front of him and spread my arms. "As Virginia will tell you, I am not a huggy person. And I know that you're my professor and everything but you seem like you could use a hug. So, if you want a hug, here." I stand there awkwardly for a moment, my arms out by my sides, refusing to look at him.
He chuckles to himself. "Well, I suppose since we are on holiday, I am not technically your professor at the moment." I'm about to respond when he gets up suddenly, pulling me in his arms. I don't know what to do, so I just wrap my arms around his middle. He, however, seems much more comfortable, as if this was an action he was all too familiar with. My head is tucked under his chin, and he holds me steady with one hand as he trails his free hand through my hair, up and down my back. It feels nice, and I close my eyes as I relax into him.
We stand there for I don't know how long, and idly my mind wanders to him. When is the last time he hugged somebody? Has he really never gotten this close to another human being in twelve years? Eventually he pulls away from me, slowly, and I avert my eyes. He's my professor. The flirting, the contact, the gifts…
"I'm sorry," he says, as he sees the look on my face.
"No, no, don't be," I say softly. "I just-" I shrug. "I guess I just needed that too."
I look up at him slowly, and there's something in his eyes that I can't place. "I was going to get dinner," he says shortly. "Would you like to join me?"
"Christmas dinner, just you and me?" I ask teasingly. "I don't know, are you sure that's…appropriate?"
He sighs, as if this was a question that he'd been considering for quite some time. "Honestly?" he asks, and for some reason his face takes on a much younger, boyish quality. "I don't even care right now."
I smile and my fingers lace with his as we head towards the doorway. Midway through, I stop mid-step, turning around to stare at our joined hands. Had I really just taken his hand? I didn't like holding hands with people. The only person I occasionally held hands with was Tommy, and he seemed to insist on it for some reason. But when I had taken Hieronymous' hand just now it had felt so natural…
"Something wrong?" he asks.
"Uh," I hold up our linked hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, you know-"
"I don't mind," he says simply, and he keeps a firm grip on my hand as he leads me out the door. As we head down to the staff cafeteria, I can't help but quell the thoughts rushing through my brain. Okay, I think I like him. Maybe more than like him. Maybe a lot more than like him. But even weirder than that, I think he might like me too, maybe even more than he's letting on. And sure, that was all well and good, but he was fourteen years older than me. He was my professor. I was his student.
I can't imagine any way in which this could possibly have a happy ending.