'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'Here comes the kiss that I never had Nothing feels like this Headed for heaven tonight I love you Here comes a storm in the form of a girl She's the finest sweetest thing in the world I'll go to heaven tonight for what you are'
Padfoot,
As pretty as those tropical birds you sent were, I'm pretty sure they died from hypothermia. You know, you're freaking Harry and me out. I would've pushed you off Buckbeak if I thought you would get yourself thrown back in Azkaban over this.
Don't be stupid and don't get caught. (Moony sends his regards)
Hera x
As the weeks progressed and it reached late October, the newly brown leaves weren't the only change at Hogwarts. No one could ever remember Hera's smile being so bright, and she was eager to share the deep happiness she'd been feeling. Her skin had a lasting glow to it — though that could easily be attributed to the autumn air or constant sex she was having.
It's funny how quickly something can become normalcy...
Though she'd made a promise to herself to never fuck people from school, Hera figured it was alright to bend the rules just this once. It wasn't like Cedric was a stranger; they were friends outside of school too. And though what they had wasn't necessarily emotional, they were young; there was plenty of time for that later.
Hera liked to think of it as a 'punch drunk love' — if you could even call it that — they were sixteen and seventeen, stuck in a constant cycle of fucking and talking and fucking and fighting. Somehow, it worked. In one way or another, their souls seemed entwined, and that was enough to replace the incongruous nature of their minds.
No matter where Hera went, all people seemed to want to talk about was the upcoming Triwizard Tournament: who would be trying for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve and what students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were like.
Hera was surprised she even noticed it, but the castle seemed to be undergoing an extremely thorough cleaning to prepare for the arrival of other schools. Almost every portrait had been scrubbed, along with the now-gleaming suits of armour. Filch's anger reached a new height after he caught Hera and Cedric out after-hours and traipsing mud through the halls without having wiped their shoes first.
