''𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙡𝙡. 𝙄'𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬- 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣.'' Loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction.
- VOLUME I of the HOUSE OF B...
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• ── ≪ ✧ ◦《✩》◦✧ ≫ ── •
DINNER AT THE POTTERS WAS UNLIKE ANYTHING Estella had ever seen before. The string of muggle fairy lights that seemed to be a permanent decoration in each of the Potters rooms cast the small kitchen in a cozy glow, and warmth was blissfully abundant.
Walking down the stairs with James, after a day of doing a heavenly amount of nothing, Estella couldn't help her wide eyed gaze.
Pictures of James crowded the wall beside the bannister. There was young James, teenage James, James doing a cartwheel, James with butterbeer frothing on his top lip.
To walk down the Potters main staircase was to take a walk down James's life.
Every precious moment with him had been recorded in glass frames, or remembered in the horrendous piece of finger painted art that held a special place of pride at the end of the staircase, by the main hallway.
It had been simply titled 'Jamie- age four- an artist in the making'.
Estella had taken a mental snapshot intending to save the memory forever, intending to remember the undoubtable love Euphemia and Fleamont Potter held for their son. And now, according to James's dramatic profession last night, his for her.
Beneath the Potters kitchen table Estella's hand tightened in James's. Had he meant it? Or were his words simply that. Words, lacking in all manner of intent. He couldn't possibly intend to actually switch sides? Even if he did, it would never be tolerated, much less accepted.
However, on the off chance that this idea, this fantasy could ever become reality, Estella had already put plans in motion.
Whilst James had slept sound beside her, Estella had been busy concocting the perfect letter. The letter that would set her and James's entwined future in motion.
Addressed to Druella, it had detailed Estella's deepest shame and regret at apparating away. By now it wasn't difficult to know which words would ease her mothers wrath, and thus in the hours of the early morning, Estella sat on the side of James's bed, listening to his easy breaths as she hunched over his small nightstand and scrawled down the most important letter she would ever need to write.
Not only did it detail her sorrow and embarrassment, but also her plan to redeem herself. Druella had already been informed at the beginning of the school year of Estella's wicked plan to break James Potters heart, back when he was no more than a name with which she could wield in her thick haze of wrath against Sirius, and thus it was no great feat to bend the truth a little further.
