Bound By Blood.

ch.58~ I take it back.

"I wish your sorry meant something.

I'm sure Ireland is much better than this. 

I'm sorry for whatever comes next... Truly."

Recovered Translated Correspondents between Alexandra Brooks, to Death Eater Mattheo Riddle, 2004.

Safe House, 2003.

Alexandra. 

It been two weeks. 

I haven't received any post, as far as I'm aware, from Mattheo. 

I would be worried, wondering if he was alive or now. But, the paper does a good enough job at telling me he is. 

I know I fucked up. 

I let my pride get the better of me, and now I'm left grappling with the consequences of my actions. 

I went too far; I played with fire and got burned. 

Literally.

I didn't intend to hurt him, which is hard to believe I would ever go out of my way not to. 

And the irony doesn't escape me. 

I should loathe him for simply being him.

Yet here I am, clinging to the hope that his stupid bird will fly into my window. 

The imagery of our last conversation haunts me—the bitterness in his eyes, the weight of all the unspoken words hanging heavily between us. 

Just as I'm lost in my thoughts, the door creaks open, and Ron barges in, a grin plastered on his face. 

"Well, look who's still alive! I was beginning to think you'd burned another house down," he laughs, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes.

I can't help but roll my eyes, a reluctant smile creeping onto my lips. 

"Oh please, that was all your brother! You know he's the one with the reputation," I retort, my teasing tone masking the tale of chaos we both know isn't true. 

It was me, really, but George does have an uncanny knack for disaster.

Ron sits down on my bed and leans back, his feet ajar—so carefree, so Ron. 

"Right, right, blame it all on George. Classic move. So how's the punishment going? Still not allowed off the grounds without a babysitter?" he asks, amusement dancing in his emerald eyes.

I snort, shaking my head. "Oh, it's just delightful, really. I've taken up my old hobby: staring at the walls," I reply sarcastically, waving my hand as if the very thought is a masterpiece.

Ron chuckles, leaning forward. "You'd better be careful, or Harry might just turn you into a permanent fixture around here."

"Yeah, right! Just what I need," I laugh, feeling the heaviness in my chest ease with our banter. 

It's moments like these that remind me I'm not entirely alone, that I still have my friends, even when the weight of my mistakes feels overwhelming.

Ron clears his throat, his demeanor shifting slightly. "But seriously, we're all needed in the meeting room," he says, pushing himself up off the bed, the friendly teasing gone for a moment. "It's about the upcoming mission and he needs your... unique way of chaos."