Please.
Please come sit with me by the fire, come tell me those silly Muggle stories you're always telling my father; tell me of green garden hoses, tell me of fantasy princesses that sing by the moonlight, tell me of pictures that move on blank, black screens, tell me of people who clean teeth, tell me of the men that decide upon things with their fists for a living, tell me everything about you.
Please, come sit next to me and help me with this essay. Please, tell me the twelve uses of dragon's blood and give me a good starting sentence. Please, I long for your thigh to brush against mine and for you to take my quill out of my hands. Please, I only long for you.
Please, stop ogling my brother and see that I'm here too. Please, stop leading on world famous Quidditch stars and notice the infamous one that stands behind you. Please, just look at me and no one else so that you may see who I really, truly am.
Please, stop putting your wild brown hair in that messy bun, let it dawdle around your shoulders in that lovely way it does. Please, stop trying to hide your beautiful face with books and parchment, stop acting as though you aren't worthy of anyone that attends Hogwarts. Please, open up and let me see you. Please stop trying to hide.
Please, let me love you.
…
Thank you.