 Kaplinski Rival Sorting Hat Machine
It was no use. Looking back. Everytime she did so, the sting that she had felt creeping its ugly hand upon her throat, would rise again, threatening to suffocate her. They had come, not long after Snape had rescued her. Without heart or feeling, they took him away. They. Took. Him. Away. And this time, he was not coming back. She knew these feelings, of resentment, of regret, were present in her expressions. If only she had not loved, maybe this might not have happened. She sighed. Deeply. It hurt. It really did. It hurt.
He could see her crying, on the inside and felt almost petrified at the sight of her pain. He had requested to share a carriage with her, alone. She needed him. She needed anyone, true but he thought he should, at least out of guilt, make up for all the times that he wasn't there. His eyes flickered up at hers, she looked back, eyes wide, hopeless. He her hand lay limply on the sill, her skin looked dead. He could not remember the last time he had seen her eat. leep. Smile. Live. She was dead inside. Her skin, it felt cold at the touch of his hand against her cheek. Abruptly, he got up and sat next to her, cupping her face, pressing his tips to her pores, wanting nothing more than to transfer his heat to her. He was scared that if he didnt, she would die. And she couldn't die. Not a second time. He had allowed her to die on the inside, he could not allow it to happen on the out. |