Heliophilia; d.m

VIII

Days, weeks, months passed, we had ups and downs, we talked and didn't talk, maybe we felt something was changing between us, but no one wanted to admit it.
But now I am sure that no matter what happened then, no matter what difficulties, misunderstandings and arguments occurred, it was all worth it, it was all worth us.

—

VIOLET

Sitting in the great hall while everyone else ate breakfast, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be outside. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling and I could see how clear the sky was.

I imagined walking along the shore of the lake, sinking my feet in the green grass and hiding in the shade of the majestic trees; I imagined turning my face to the sun, letting the rays tickle my cheeks with warm touches; I imagined the spring air filling my lungs, breathing in the freshness of spring.

It was my favorite time of year, and I would have liked to spend it outside, but unfortunately I had to be in class in a few minutes. And thinking about it again, my light and serene mood disappeared. It snapped me out of my imaginary walk, making me hear the sounds of clinking dishes and cutlery again.

Sighing heavily, I looked down at my half-empty plate, waiting for Kristen to finally finish her meal and we could leave. But the next second, a letter plopped in front of me, almost falling into my half-eaten food. I didn't even notice the owls rushing in, while I was lost in the thoughts.

Running my finger over the rough sheet of paper, I slowly unfolded it and immediately recognized my father's handwriting.

Hello, Violet.

Yesterday I noticed your favorite violets blooming under your window.
I wish you could see it.

You know, spring always reminds me of you.
And I'm sorry that we won't be able to spend a single spring day together this year.

I hope you're well.
I look forward to seeing you.

Have a good time.

Dad.

A simple letter, just a few lines, without much meaning, but it made me smile. My father tried, he tried his best to make up for his years of absence, he tried to mend our strained relationship, and he tried to be a good father. And I couldn't help but smile sadly — he sent letters at every opportunity, constantly telling me how much he missed me and was looking forward to meeting me, how sorry he was that we spent so little time together, and how he hoped that everything was fine with me.

After all, we had no one but each other.

After breakfast was finally over, we headed to class, and as we left the great hall, we caught up with Draco and two of his friends.
I stared at his back — one of his hands was in his pocket and he held a book in another one. His gait was sweeping and his robe fluttered behind him.

We hadn't spoken much since that day in the library. He didn't even try to make fun of me. He didn't call me any stupid names — It was like he'd completely lost interest in me.
And I didn't want to admit it, but it was a little boring without our constant bickering.

From the first day I was at Hogwarts, he wouldn't leave me alone. I was kind of used to it, It was part of my life there. Like a daily ritual, as stupid as it sounds. But I had to pull myself together, and stop thinking about it as something very important.