innocence
it's nothing like she ever encountered before.
It's that time of year, when the leaves change colours and the good, old summer days are gone – only to leave the memories of lemonade and beaches and simplicity to haunt them as the blustery winds of autumn swings by.
The street lights are lit by the old, muggle park, and she absently plucks off the petals of a wilted daisy, with little, hushed whispers of, "Love me," and "Love me not's," as the wind hums its silent song. The atmosphere is cold as the Arctic air, but she doesn't feel at thing, as the fire was still ignited inside of her.
She wasn't used to this, the simplicity that was her life before changed suddenly, and the danger and hazardous attempt to make it work was as new to her as the idea of a newborn bird to the concept of flying. She somehow knows this isn't going to work. No matter how hard they try.
but she struggles anyway.
a/n: please do not favourite without reviewing, and thank you.