Have you ever met someone and convinced that you have seen them somewhere? Is it even possible to rewrite one's existence or simply erase it?
"Desroseires, what a nostalgic name."
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They were meant to be hidden
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Arwen stared at her dark reflection in the mirror, her eyes bored through every features of hers that were reflected on the mirror, her breath was steady as if the death of Pansy Parkinson had no affects on her and her mind was a field of no thoughts.
She felt nothing and she wondered why so many people were hurt at the fact that Pansy Parkinson was murdered.
She had heard several people whispering about how collected she was despite having one of her friend's life being taken away and the murder was not yet found. There was hardly any evidence left.
"She doesn't even shed a tear."
"Does she not care?"
"I don't think they're friends after all."
"Is she not sad?"
"She's very heartless."
Arwen walked in the corridor by herself, her books were in her hands as she held them close to her chest, each step she took made her heart felt heavier and she immediately made her way to the library where she could be alone by herself.
Everything that she planned was ruined because of the murder. She wasn't even sad but rather confused and somehow angry at the fact that Pansy Parkinson was dead.
She dropped her books on the table as soon as she ended up in one empty section. Taking a deep breath she flopped herself on the chair, looking down at her trembling hands, her eyes were wandering around the area, her head felt heavy and there was uncertainty inside her.
The same uncertainty that she experienced after the death of Cedric Diggory years ago.
The same feeling of empty hole that seemed need to be filled for her to get the answer that she was looking for. Her mind travelled somewhere, trying to find any evidence that Pansy and her used to share a bond or not — but she found nothing.
There was nothing that could make her remember anything and she was convinced nothing was ever formed between them.
Not a friendship and barely even a bond to begin with. She thought why she should be sad, nothing was special about Pansy Parkinson, nobody cared about the wretched witch, everybody against her,
"Seriously?" a voice approached her, snapping her out of her trance and she quickly turned around to look at Victor who was looking at her.
He walked towards her. "Why are you studying?"
"It's a way to relax myself," answered the witch with casualty that she was known for. "What are you doing here?"
"Checking up on you," replied Victor softly, sitting himself right next to her.
