Prologue
Diary,
It has been yet another sleepless night at home and all I can think of is her. I lie here thinking about the lies and how much I regret it all. I lie here thinking about how those lies turned to truth just as it all began to go wrong.
I don't blame her for hating me. I would hate me too. I don't blame her for never writing back even though I've written every week this summer. I wouldn't write back either if the roles were reversed.
Blaise keeps asking me why I keep trying, he doesn't seem to get that in all the lies and fabrications, I fell for her. She took my hand and began to lead me out of the darkness that is this world and just as we were about to exit the dark, it surrounded us fully and swallowed every last shred of happiness I had left. I keep trying because I have to have hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll agree to meet with me. That maybe she'll write back to me and even if her words are harsh or short, at least I could read her handwriting once more and know that she has read those letters.
Theo is the only person who seems to understand why I have to keep trying with her, in fact, he's one of the only ones who is keeping hope with me. He wrote to me after our father's were sent away to Azkaban, asking if he could stay at the manor until school. Of course I said yes, I didn't want to subject him to staying alone at his own house when he can't use magic outside of Hogwarts. I didn't expect any favors from him, but he insisted he would write to her for me and ask her to meet. The letter was sent only yesterday and neither of us have a clue if she'll write back. God, I hope she does.
The only thing I can bring myself to read from her previous letters is the one she wrote after we laid in the field of flowers, something I would have never done with anyone. The words played in my mind on a constant loop, "if you send for me, I'll come. If you call for me, I'll run. I'll run to you, I'll come to you, always." I know now as I looked at the dried blue hydrangea placed on the letter that those words probably weren't true anymore. Even after I sent her letters and a blue hydrangea attached to each as they symbolize apology, her silence...that deafening silence proved we might be lost.
All I hope for is that under all the stubbornness that is Viola Rose Kingsley, she'll set aside some of it to write back. Even if it's merely a sentence, I don't care, just something. I've never been one to go look up at the stars in the night sky and whisper wishes to them asking for them to implore her to write to me, but the entire summer that's all I can seem to do. I'm just a soul who's intentions are good, I just want her to see that.
Maybe the stars will implore her to write back. She listens to them greatly, allowing the universe to make their choices and she follows. All I can ask is that the universe works in our favor. I can see our story written in it, and this is not how it should end.
D. L. M.
Diary,
She wrote back. It was short and brief, but she wrote. She wrote with that beautiful writing of hers, so neat and precise, and agreed to meet when we're back at Hogwarts.
It makes me think that deep down, she knows this isn't the end for us either. The darkness is letting in some light, after all this time.
D. L. M.
