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･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Dear Bellamy,
It feels wrong to say this because you've been one of my best friends for as long as I can remember. When I was just a timid first year, utterly scared and despairingly lost in the Great Hall after being sorted into Ravenclaw, you had come to my rescue. You were the first friend I had ever made in Hogwarts and, because of that, I will be forever indebted to you.
But in my eleven year old mind, you coming to my rescue had let me hopelessly daydream of you being my knight in shining armor. You're certainly not far from it. You're charming in every aspect, handsome too, and your dashing smile and courteous manners had always used to make me swoon. If I could've been your princess, I would have.
The truth of the matter is this: I fell in love with you before my young mind could even begin to comprehend what love truly is.
There were so many days you could effortlessly have me in a fit of giggles, days where you made me blush as red as a rose, and hard nights where you stayed up with me to look after me and care for me. Of all the boys I've liked, it's you who I could most see a future with, and the thought scares me. I don't want to ruin what we already have.
Like a spark that ignites a fire, my heart burned bright and fast for you. But, like a fire, it had also been muted not only by my coming to my senses as I grew older but by another who deserves your love more than me. It took me forever to realize that I can only love you like a brother but, still, sometimes I wonder of what could have been. Above all else, you deserve to know this even if I may be too scared to tell you.
Sincerely,
Lydia Fletcher
THE RAVENCLAW COMMON ROOM is saturated with a dense silence.
No one else is around in the circular, airy room, safe for Bellamy and Lydia, and the white marble statue of the opulently captivating Rowena Ravenclaw in one corner where the entrance to the stairs leading up to the dormitories are located. Her resolute stare captured in time etched into the stone eyes them closely. Often times, one can find her gazing out upon the common room like the watchful and valiant figure that she is, but that night her stare seems cold and dull, pensive as it falls upon Lydia, as if she were lamenting the girl's foolish mistake.
Not even the common room offers Lydia a moment of respite or serenity despite it usually possessing such a peaceful quality. Not the magnificent view of the land that stretches far around Hogwarts and the night sky with its twinkling stars seen through the arched windows lining the walls; not the midnight blue domed ceiling with its radiant flecks of constellations to mimic the earthly canvas above in the clouds, surrounded by the finest of silk bronze and sapphire tapestries; not even the Ravenclaw's own smaller quaint library tucked away behind the statue in a spherical room containing some of Lydia's most favourite books, of which she has read at least a dozen times over by now. The empty ornate chairs and sofas that litter the room feel as if they contain haunting ghosts of a person, eerie and ominous, forgotten despite being the sole place Lydia has found refugee more times than not with her friends and dozing off into a nap on the late nights when she was studying. The only sound comes from the crackle and pop of the fire nearest them. Bellamy hasn't spoken since handing the letter to Lydia, and nor has Lydia.
