╭────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────╮
𝐃
I want it to be in the record that at some point, I wanted us to happen. I want it to be written somewhere that I believed in us so much that I was ready to make it happen – right before things went downhill again.
The thing is, I meant it; if I ever run away it would be with my Ophelia. It wasn't a possible scenario of course, so I looked for the next best thing – some way to tell her how I truly felt, no alcohol, no memory losses.
A kiss would be a good start. But at some point, you're left wondering how you can do something like this justice after all we have been through. I build it up so much in my head that it seemed terrifying. There were easier things in life, like going on as we were; us enjoying ourselves once in a while, me getting on with my task, her hating me once and for all.
No, what was hard to find was a way to change this course.
Still, I want it to be in the record that I changed my mind once. Actively. Completely.
I want it written down that at one point in the story, I would have given up on any task.
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Christmas found me alone and sleep-deprived but meeting Ophelia every day during the Christmas break was somewhat of a silent agreement for us, so there was an air of optimism about me for a while.
During breakfast, Bella was energetic and had this annoying smile that begs you to ask her what she is smiling about. I wasn't going to give in and let her think I cared what she was smiling about but my interest peaked when she said she was too tired to take me to the Keep as promised. Something told me that if she was crazy enough to want to visit that place even on Christmas, she wouldn't cancel it if she weren't truly tired. Yet she looked joyful, cheerful, practically beaming.
"Okay, what is it?" And the question was directed at Mother because Bella's games were too tiresome for Christmas day.
They both bit their tongues for a while, looking around as if they weren't allowed to tell me, until Bella erupted in laughter. I don't think she did this to further intrigue me; sometimes I genuinely think that her mind wandered here and there uncontrollably and her expressions followed blindly.
"You know what we did yesterday?"
As she explained, my heart skipped a beat.
I must have suspected something. I smelled the smoke and the shoot around her.
"Is anyone dead? Are the Weasleys alright?"
"Uhhh..." she said with a thoughtfully dumbstruck look. "If any of those red mopheads was in the house before we burned it down, they might be. But we didn't stay long after, so I don't know."
The breezy way she was talking about it made me sick to my stomach.
"Don't worry, rats always survive," she added.
Rat echoed inside my brain and I had to shake my head not to think about Schindler's List last night.
"And where are the Weasleys going to stay now?"
"Why'd you care? Reckon the rest of the members will cramp them up somewhere. Come to think of it, it could be an upgrade for them," she said.
This made me hark back to the time outside the Shrieking Shack. I had really believed to my core that no home would be better and thought it a kindness to wish Weasley that fate.
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