Chapter 24
I walked around the dormitory several times, savoring the moment, the smell of leather and wood, the way the light came in the window by my bed and made that curious shape on the floor. All of it, however small it had seemed before, seemed enormous at that moment.
In my hands I held a letter from the Ministry of Magic. It was well worn from being read over and over again. I had to take it out before bed every night just to be sure that it really did exist.
Miss Meta Cockerham:
Thank you for your interest in the Ministry of Magic, especially in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
We have been informed of your intelligence, talent, and promising future. Because of these many important qualities, you have been chosen to fill the position of assistant under myself, which may lead to a permanent position in our department.
Please give your reply within two weeks so that we may prepare for your arrival. We are anticipating your employment with us!
Sincerely,
Amygdala H. Bancroft
Head
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
It had all been Snape's doing, of course. I knew that. He said that he would help me all those months before, I just couldn't imagine that he would actually remember. I knew how coveted those assistant jobs with Department heads were. They almost always ended up with a very good permanent position within a year. I hadn't even spoken to Snape; I simply got the letter one day during breakfast and sent out my reply later that night.
I sighed again and folded the letter back up and placed it in my trunk, along with the other letter, which scheduled a meeting for me with Amygdala Bancroft the day after graduation.
And graduation is only two days away…
I put on a sweater and crept silently past the warm and cheery common room where almost every member of the Ravenclaw house was, talking and laughing and celebrating their soon to be independence. Most of them were younger and would be going home to their parents and returning to Hogwarts for at least another year. The other seventh years would be going on to more schooling or jobs or backpacking trips. All of them looked blissfully happy and I felt unwelcome, like a strange peering in on someone else's Christmas dinner.
I was suddenly filled with a strange sort of sadness. It was not the kind that can be healed by a good cry, nor was it like the hollow grief I still felt for Franco. Instead, it was a persistent gnawing or a shadow looming over my shoulder, a dark, sarcastic shadow with a hooked nose.
I closed the portrait behind me and drowned out the noise of the rest of them. Somehow their joy only irritated me instead of lifting my spirits, and I wanted to get away from it. I had taken to walking in the evenings in those last weeks at school. I walked around the grounds in the same way each night. First I went past the lake, then along the edge of the dark trees, and lastly I would rest for a few moments on the grass in a quiet part of the grounds and watch the sun set. That night I walked the same path as I always took, and as always was deep in thought. I sat down on the damp grass and looked back at the castle. It seemed so huge, yet so alive. From there the yellow lights twinkled from the windows like hundreds of little eyes watching me. Hogwarts seemed to be telling me in a gentle, motherly way, that it was time to go, and that I must grow up and move on.
"I'm grown up already."
I turned back toward the horizon and watched the sky turn from blue to gray to yellow to orange to red. I never had really been one for sunsets, and I am not now, but during those walks they were always so beautiful that I could not turn away until the very last bit of light was swallowed up by the earth. I was concentrating on the silence so hard that I didn't hear him coming until he was standing next to me.
"Miss Cockerham," Snape's cool voice cut through the air and brought me abruptly back to reality. "It is getting late. You would not want to be caught out past curfew."
He held out a slender, white hand and I timidly took it. He helped me up to my feet. My hand lingered on hiss for a few seconds too long, but I felt that I couldn't let go. I knew what I had to do and I didn't want to do it.
"Professor," I said, as our hands parted and I brushed the grass off of my legs.
"Yes, Miss Cockerham," he said. It was getting dark and I couldn't see his face.
"I think you should have this back." I slipped the pearl ring off my finger where it had remained ever since the day I had burned all of the letters. I didn't want to lose it. He held out his hand and took it. There was silence for a moment, and then he said,
"It was meant as a gift."
I swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. "I don't think it is a gift I should accept." I was glad that it was dark so he couldn't see the tears running down my cheeks.
I saw him put the ring in a pocket in his robes, but I still could not see his face. I wanted to know what he was feeling. I could almost feel if I looked into his eyes. Sometimes I could see the storm clouding them. But it was dark, and I could only make out the outline of his white face and hands. I would have lit my wand, but my eyes were still crying. They seemed to have a mind of their own. I didn't tell them to cry, and yet the tears would not stop flowing.
"After this week, I don't suppose I'll ever see you again," I said as calmly as I could.
"No," he replied, equally calm. "I don't suppose you will."
"Goodbye," I said.
"Goodbye," he replied.
So, that is that I thought, as I began to walk toward the castle. Nothing tragic. Nothing messy. A nice, clean break.
Except it is not nice at all, and I feel filthy.
Still, I kept walking, as quietly as I could with hardly any light. I did not look back. I did not want to see his dark figure silhouetted against the last dying rays. I had to keep walking.
I took another step, and then another, and then, I stopped. I don't know why I stopped. My brain said, "keep moving," but my feet would not oblige. It did not feel right. I could not leave. I slowly turned around and walked back to him. He was facing me, but he was completely still.
"I lied a minute ago," I said shakily, the tears still running furiously down my face.
"I know," he said in his silky voice.
"I lied about both things," I sobbed. "I lied about the ring. I do want it. And I lied about this being the last time I see you.
I do know I'll see you again."
"I know," he repeated.
"You're always so cool! Don't you ever feel?"
He didn't reply, but like that night when Franco died, he reached toward my face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.
"Yes," he finally said. He lifted my face with his hands. He took one hand off my cheek and combed his fingers through my hair. "Yes," he whispered again, and ran his finger gently under my chin. I couldn't breathe. His touch sent shivers down my spine and I felt both afraid and excited at the same time. My hand found its way to his pocket, and I reached in and pulled out the ring.
"I'm taking this back," I said breathlessly.
He let out a soft chuckle and removed his hand from my chin and took the ring out of my hand. He slipped it back on my finger.
"Now, stop lying," he gently scolded.
"I will," I was about to say, but before I could get the words out, he placed a slender finger on my lips. I closed my eyes and he leaned down and gently kissed my forehead, then my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. His lips lingered over mine. I could feel his breath on my face. Finally, his mouth kissed mine, so gently, almost timidly. He kissed me again, more passionately. The years of frustration, desire, anger, love, hate, were all culminating at that moment.
"I love you," I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a very long time.
I walked around the dormitory several times, savoring the moment, the smell of leather and wood, the way the light came in the window by my bed and made that curious shape on the floor. All of it, however small it had seemed before, seemed enormous at that moment.
In my hands I held a letter from the Ministry of Magic. It was well worn from being read over and over again. I had to take it out before bed every night just to be sure that it really did exist.
Miss Meta Cockerham:
Thank you for your interest in the Ministry of Magic, especially in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
We have been informed of your intelligence, talent, and promising future. Because of these many important qualities, you have been chosen to fill the position of assistant under myself, which may lead to a permanent position in our department.
Please give your reply within two weeks so that we may prepare for your arrival. We are anticipating your employment with us!
Sincerely,
Amygdala H. Bancroft
Head
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
It had all been Snape's doing, of course. I knew that. He said that he would help me all those months before, I just couldn't imagine that he would actually remember. I knew how coveted those assistant jobs with Department heads were. They almost always ended up with a very good permanent position within a year. I hadn't even spoken to Snape; I simply got the letter one day during breakfast and sent out my reply later that night.
I sighed again and folded the letter back up and placed it in my trunk, along with the other letter, which scheduled a meeting for me with Amygdala Bancroft the day after graduation.
And graduation is only two days away…
I put on a sweater and crept silently past the warm and cheery common room where almost every member of the Ravenclaw house was, talking and laughing and celebrating their soon to be independence. Most of them were younger and would be going home to their parents and returning to Hogwarts for at least another year. The other seventh years would be going on to more schooling or jobs or backpacking trips. All of them looked blissfully happy and I felt unwelcome, like a strange peering in on someone else's Christmas dinner.
I was suddenly filled with a strange sort of sadness. It was not the kind that can be healed by a good cry, nor was it like the hollow grief I still felt for Franco. Instead, it was a persistent gnawing or a shadow looming over my shoulder, a dark, sarcastic shadow with a hooked nose.
I closed the portrait behind me and drowned out the noise of the rest of them. Somehow their joy only irritated me instead of lifting my spirits, and I wanted to get away from it. I had taken to walking in the evenings in those last weeks at school. I walked around the grounds in the same way each night. First I went past the lake, then along the edge of the dark trees, and lastly I would rest for a few moments on the grass in a quiet part of the grounds and watch the sun set. That night I walked the same path as I always took, and as always was deep in thought. I sat down on the damp grass and looked back at the castle. It seemed so huge, yet so alive. From there the yellow lights twinkled from the windows like hundreds of little eyes watching me. Hogwarts seemed to be telling me in a gentle, motherly way, that it was time to go, and that I must grow up and move on.
"I'm grown up already."
I turned back toward the horizon and watched the sky turn from blue to gray to yellow to orange to red. I never had really been one for sunsets, and I am not now, but during those walks they were always so beautiful that I could not turn away until the very last bit of light was swallowed up by the earth. I was concentrating on the silence so hard that I didn't hear him coming until he was standing next to me.
"Miss Cockerham," Snape's cool voice cut through the air and brought me abruptly back to reality. "It is getting late. You would not want to be caught out past curfew."
He held out a slender, white hand and I timidly took it. He helped me up to my feet. My hand lingered on hiss for a few seconds too long, but I felt that I couldn't let go. I knew what I had to do and I didn't want to do it.
"Professor," I said, as our hands parted and I brushed the grass off of my legs.
"Yes, Miss Cockerham," he said. It was getting dark and I couldn't see his face.
"I think you should have this back." I slipped the pearl ring off my finger where it had remained ever since the day I had burned all of the letters. I didn't want to lose it. He held out his hand and took it. There was silence for a moment, and then he said,
"It was meant as a gift."
I swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. "I don't think it is a gift I should accept." I was glad that it was dark so he couldn't see the tears running down my cheeks.
I saw him put the ring in a pocket in his robes, but I still could not see his face. I wanted to know what he was feeling. I could almost feel if I looked into his eyes. Sometimes I could see the storm clouding them. But it was dark, and I could only make out the outline of his white face and hands. I would have lit my wand, but my eyes were still crying. They seemed to have a mind of their own. I didn't tell them to cry, and yet the tears would not stop flowing.
"After this week, I don't suppose I'll ever see you again," I said as calmly as I could.
"No," he replied, equally calm. "I don't suppose you will."
"Goodbye," I said.
"Goodbye," he replied.
So, that is that I thought, as I began to walk toward the castle. Nothing tragic. Nothing messy. A nice, clean break.
Except it is not nice at all, and I feel filthy.
Still, I kept walking, as quietly as I could with hardly any light. I did not look back. I did not want to see his dark figure silhouetted against the last dying rays. I had to keep walking.
I took another step, and then another, and then, I stopped. I don't know why I stopped. My brain said, "keep moving," but my feet would not oblige. It did not feel right. I could not leave. I slowly turned around and walked back to him. He was facing me, but he was completely still.
"I lied a minute ago," I said shakily, the tears still running furiously down my face.
"I know," he said in his silky voice.
"I lied about both things," I sobbed. "I lied about the ring. I do want it. And I lied about this being the last time I see you.
I do know I'll see you again."
"I know," he repeated.
"You're always so cool! Don't you ever feel?"
He didn't reply, but like that night when Franco died, he reached toward my face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.
"Yes," he finally said. He lifted my face with his hands. He took one hand off my cheek and combed his fingers through my hair. "Yes," he whispered again, and ran his finger gently under my chin. I couldn't breathe. His touch sent shivers down my spine and I felt both afraid and excited at the same time. My hand found its way to his pocket, and I reached in and pulled out the ring.
"I'm taking this back," I said breathlessly.
He let out a soft chuckle and removed his hand from my chin and took the ring out of my hand. He slipped it back on my finger.
"Now, stop lying," he gently scolded.
"I will," I was about to say, but before I could get the words out, he placed a slender finger on my lips. I closed my eyes and he leaned down and gently kissed my forehead, then my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. His lips lingered over mine. I could feel his breath on my face. Finally, his mouth kissed mine, so gently, almost timidly. He kissed me again, more passionately. The years of frustration, desire, anger, love, hate, were all culminating at that moment.
"I love you," I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a very long time.