All I Have Left

Chapter Forty Two

So I originally wrote this chapter a day earlier and went to add a few things extra but accidentally deleted everything, so now I am super pissed and have to rewrite everything. It was also probably the best chapter I have ever written and now I need to do it all over again, now I want to shoot myself in the head, so that's fun. 

Dear Lila, 

Buckbeak's hearing has been set for April 20. Me, Hermione, and Ron are all working on helping him win. Finger's crossed he does. 
Happy Christmas, by the way. It isn't Christmas when I'm writing this, but it probably is when you'll get this. 
Ron also wanted to know if you have had any visions, because clearly he can't go a single day without asking. 

Your friend,
Harry

Harry, 

Poor Buckbeak. I feel really bad for him and Hagrid. How is Hagrid, by the way? Probably not well, considering the nerves he must be feeling.

Happy Christmas! Today is in fact Christmas, I have just gotten your letter. Hedwig is a cute owl, he is. I woke up from the noise of him knocking on my window, though. Might've liked an extra hour of sleep considering it's Christmas. 

No, I haven't had any visions and tell Ronald that if I do I will tell you lot immediately. 

Sincerely, 
Lila

I fold up the letter and seal it with black, melted wax, then signing Harry's name on the envelope. I go over to hand it to Hedwig, but see he's no longer by the window. I furrow my eyebrows and scan the room before I see him perched next to Elara's cage.

"No..." I murmur to myself, running over to stop Hedwig from moving any further, but it's too late. I see the snowy owl gulp and I gasp, running towards him and looking at the empty cage that used to belong to Elara.

I let out a long, sad sigh and hand the letter to Hedwig, telling him where to deliver it to before shooing him off quickly out of anger. 

I groan and go sit at the edge of my bed, glancing around the large bedroom in which is mine. 

The walls are a cream white color, gold designs and patterns all around the ceiling and walls. The floor is a matching cream white, but a cold marble that freezes your bare feet once they touch instead. 

The ceiling has two gold chandeliers hanging from it, candles as the rooms only light source, along with sunlight, much like the rest of the house. 

In the center of the room facing the double doors that signal the exit and entrance to my bedroom is a pastel green, silk sofa with four matching pillows on top, little gold designs all over it, a grey silk blanket on the couch, one I used last night to cover myself as I read.

 On either side of the couch are two, cream white armchairs, gold lining surrounding them and matching pillows on each, the two armchairs facing one another. 

In the middle of the couches is a small, round, auburn brown wooden table, with a single candle on top that is slightly melted after I had used it last night as my only light source. 

Right next to the candle is the book I was reading last night, Little Women, which had a bookmark on the page I had left off on, where Amy is burning Jo's book. 

A little, empty glass tea cup is on the edge of the table, after I had drank most of it last night. 

I stare at the auburn brown, identical double doors that you use to exit and enter the large bedroom. On either side of the door are two, large, auburn brown bookcases that are stacked, bottom to top with books, most of which I have already read.