Chapter 53: I am what I am

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Usual Disclaimer

This hasn't been beta-read so I apologise before hand for the following many and varied spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. ;-)

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Senga looked around her room sadly. The Quidditch posters were still on the wall, the players waving their hands and whizzing from side to side. Her Ravenclaw Scarf and tie still hung from the hook on the back of the door.

She looked up and drew the soft scarf down from the hook; she'd never wear it again. She'd never walk the halls of Hogwarts between classes. Never fly through the air on her broomstick. She dropped the scarf to the floor and turned away abruptly; tears pricking her eyes. The pain that clenched around her heart made her feel physically sick.

She crossed to her bed and sank down her head dropping forwards as she closed her eyes. She had known exactly what she was doing. Had known what the outcome would be.

She knew that if she succeeded her magic would be stripped from her. What she hadn't known was the feeling that would be left. She felt as if half of her was missing. As if half of her had been ripped clean away, leaving a raw wound that would never heal, never stop hurting. She hadn't realised that she would look like a freak. Her hands went to her white hair and she tugged it painfully, but not even that pain was enough to cover the pain inside her.

She clenched her fists at the growing pain in her chest. Both her uncle and the Medi-Wizards had explained to her that she might experience headaches, but they hadn't said anything about the lost feeling that seemed to swirl around inside her. As if she had lost something and had to search for it.

She jumped to her feet fighting the urge to cry out; still with clenched fists she looked around her room once again. The Quidditch posters stared down at her, mocking her, showing her what she'd never again have. But then she hadn't wanted it, had willing given it all up. How many times had she wished she had been born a squib or born to Muggles? She had hated her magic; and when she realised that her ability for magic had put Clarity in danger she had willing given it all up. So why did she feel this way now? Why did she feel as if it had been better if she'd died?

She rushed to the walls and began to tear the posters down ripping them to shreds and dropping them on the floor. Silent tears streamed down her face as she crossed to her desk and tore away the pile of parchments that held her homework. She picked up each text book and threw them at the wall; she shouted hex after hex as each book hit the wall and fell to the floor. Not even the slightest effect of magic working.

The door was flung open; Snape came in and stared at her as the last book fell from her fingers. She looked at him and screamed at him, rushing at him full tilt; all her emotions let loose and completely beyond her control.

She barrelled into him but he didn't even stepped backwards. Her fists came up and she tried to hit him, but he caught her wrists easily and held her tightly against him. He moved them forwards and kicked the door shut behind him.

Senga began to shake as once more she cried against him.

He didn't speak as he drew her to the bed and sat down pulling her onto his lap. He didn't whisper comforting words or meaningless phrases. He just held her until the storm passed and she sobbed quietly against him, her stiff body relaxing into him.

"Will I always feel like this?" she hic-cupped quietly.

He stared at the pile of books with dark unreadable eyes. Her head was tucked under his chin, her cheek rested on his chest.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, his voice deep and gently.

"As if half of me is missing; as if I have this hole inside me and I can't fill it and it threatens to fill me...." Her voice began to rise in panic again. He stroked the white hair back from her forehead, keeping his eyes trained on the pile of books.

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