Ch. 2 - She thought her heart was safe in his hands

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    The monster is inside the wardrobe.

    The monster is inside the wardrobe and the girl is outside, holding her wand tightly. Her eyes are set on the wooden piece of furniture, determined, sure, a clever ruse so the others won't see how badly her free hand shakes. She takes a step forward. With a flick of the wand, the handle turns with a soft click. The door cricks and the monster is out.

    The monster is out and it's not a monster. It's a girl. The same girl as the one with her wand raised. She moves slowly like she has time falling off her shoulders, like there isn't a girl who looks exactly like her pointing a wand at her, ready to shout the spell. The monster who isn't a monster but is the girl moves slowly until she's two feet away from the girl with the wand. Her hands find slowly the base of her neck and then they start dancing around it frantically, like she's searching for a rope that's not there anymore. She opens her mouth and screams.

    The girl with the wand is frozen. Nothing exists around her but this reflation of a girl, herself, trying desperately to find what she seems to have lost. Her shaking hand finds its way around her own neck and rests there. She feels her pulse vibrating under her skin, flesh against flesh, and she understands.

    She is real and the girl in front of her is not.

    Everything happens in broken moments. With a sharp move of her wand, the monster is back into the wardrobe. No more screams. Only one girl. The world around her exists again.

"You didn't use the spell," her professor says. "You didn't turn it into something funny."

"I didn't have to," she replies while walking to the back of the classroom. "I wasn't afraid of it anymore."

    From the other side of the room, a boy is watching her. He leans on the wall, dark hair, blue eyes, arms folded in front of him. He watches her, he takes her all in. He's curious, he demands answers. Then, his lips create a smile. The boy is pleased. The boy likes what he sees, he understands the endless possibilities.

    The boy makes a plan.

    The boy makes a plan and he's not a boy but a monster.

[...]

    Juniper is sitting under a tree.

    Juniper is sitting under a tree and it's fall and the leaves dance in the wind. They fly away and when she starts hoping they never land, they finally fall to the ground. They hug the earth, grateful to be back where they started, so close to the roots. Juniper watches the leaves falling on the ground and doesn't find a metaphor there. Not yet.

    The wind messes her hair. The narrow sunlight kisses her skin. It's October and it's the start of everything.

"Impressive, what you did with the boggart."

    The voice is cold. The voice is cold but the boy is not. His smile is warm and his eyes are glowing. He is the most beautiful boy she has ever seen. He is the most deadly boy she has ever met and she doesn't even know it.

    Tom Riddle is in front of her, hands in his pockets as if he's hiding a secret there. He stands there, beautifully forbidden. Tom Riddle is one of the boys all girls know they should stay away from.

    But they all fall for him anyway.

"I didn't do anything."

"Your lack of fear did."

    It sounds beautiful when he puts it like that. Too pity is a lie. She doesn't have the heart to tell him the truth. He looks like one of those people who nurture their lies, who find a home inside them. She doesn't want him to know that this house is going to collapse any moment now.

"Does fear ever really go away?"

    He smiles and it's like all the beautiful things in the world died only for him to inherit their beauty.

"Maybe if it goes away, it was never there in the first place."

    This boy speaks in riddles. This boy speaks in riddles because he is one.

"I'm Juniper."

    A hand. A gesture.

    He smiles and it's the smile of a saint. His tongue brushes gentle his bottom lip for a second and it's the tongue of a sinner.

"I know. I'm Tom."

    A hand. A trap.

    A handshake. A deal.

    Somewhere in the castle, a clock starts ticking backward.

[...]

    The boy starts talking to her.

    The boy starts talking to her and she's confused but delighted. Tom Riddle isn't someone who talks to you unless you are really special. He is one of the boys who never had to wear his heart on his sleeve because he had the hearts of numerous girls in his pocket.

    All his to claim. All his to break. All his.

    He never cared for the quiet Hufflepuff girl before. He never, not even once, made her think that he was aware of her existence. He would walk down the hallways like dark smoke, always noticeable, never caring enough to not burn people's throats.

    Juniper is all sunshine. Her heart is big enough to fit the entire castle. She thinks she can find a small space for this handsome boy. She thinks she can squeeze herself into his heart. Sunshine doesn't require a lot of space, just a tiny empty space to dive inside. If he only gives her this tiny hole, if only he gives her the space she needs to crawl inside him and make her want her.

    The boy will eventually give her the space she needs.

    The boy will give her the space she needs because it's all a part of his plan.

    The boy will give her the space she needs because he needs her heart.

    This is not a love story. When these lovers kiss, the earth cracks in the middle.

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