Hindered Love (A Severus snape love story)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Hestia hadn't spoken in months other than to rant at people who tried to get her to eat. How could she eat when she was practically in mourning? Her face was now gaunt and pale, bones protruding from the flesh. She was still beautiful, but no-one wanted to be with someone so miserable and deeply depressed as her. The wavy brown hair that usually hung either side of her head was carelessly thrown up into a tight ponytail, tied with a short black ribbon.

Black to match her mood. Black clothing, more funeral attire, was all she could bring herself to wear, and her usually neatly manicured nails were ragged and chewed, painted with chipped black varnish. Her eyes were sunken and dark, no longer shining with the thrill of life. They were dull and faded, heavily outlined with thick, black eyeliner that contrasted against her waxen skin.

She was extremely sleep deprived, both from sadness and the fear that Elizabeth would harm her whilst she slept. The girl was still slightly deranged, and even more so when she saw the engagement ring that Hestia had forgotten to pull from her finger. She knew it was from Draco.

Hestia would sleep lightly, hand cramping from where she was clutching her wand tightly to her chest. She would never get into bed without casting a protective charm around herself through fear of what Elizabeth would do when she was most vulnerable.

Draco had surprisingly come back to school. Everyone felt sorry for him, after finding out how Hestia had left him at the alter on the day of his wedding. What was even more surprising was the fact that he didn't want their sympathy. He seemed to have lost the grip he had over the other students and became more withdrawn and kinder. Every time he would glance up and down the Slytherin table his eyes would meet with Hestia's and they would stare at each other. He would smile sadly before looking away, knowing that no matter how bad he felt, Hestia felt so much worse. And he was right.

After weeks of constant crying she had forced herself to stop. She needed to remain placid, emotionless, and unfeeling. It was the only way she would get through without sinking into a deep pit of despair.

She remembered the constant detentions and punishments, never listening in class, too distracted, aggrivated and argumentative. She never spoke a word during lessons, just stared impassively at the desk willing herself not to cry. She would arrive to detention on time, follow through with the punishment without uttering a sound, before walking slowly back to her room.

Being alone felt better to her. She couldn't stand people. She hated them, people and their pity. The pity was worse than the constant sorrow. But so was hope. And despair. Lessons were dull and repetitive, people asking her if she was alright or if there was anything they could do for her. They soon backed away when she never answered, just stared blankly at them.

Potions was the worst. At the start she would sit at the table, hoping that the person who would walk through the door next would be Severus. It never was, and she just wanted to sink beneath the desk, curl up into a ball and sob. But she refused to let herself show weakness, instead she ignored any hope that he would return.

It would be impossible.

She was sitting in a forlorn armchair in the corner of the library, hidden by bookcases laden with the largest and most complicated textbooks in the library. No-one ever went there. She came to be alone, grabbing the largest book from the shelf and pretending to read it, thumbing through the ragged pages but never actually reading. She used it to hide her tears from anyone who might see.

She hated herself when she cried. Why did she have to be so weak? Severus wouldn't want that.

Severus.