You're drawn to her like the stars, like the moon, like everything you've ever wanted and everything you couldn't have. You follow her around like a love-struck puppy, hiding behind pillars and trees, feeling ridiculous, but unable to help yourself. Your friends don't understand. You don't understand yourself.
Her name is Selena Malfoy, and she is beautiful.
Her older brother protects her from the boys, from the gawping idiots who see the perfect fall of her blonde hair, the silvery sheen of her trademark Malfoy eyes, or the slim curves under her uniform, and try to claim that perfection for themselves. But he doesn't think to protect her from the girls. Like you.
You don't tell anyone you like girls. You can't. They'll laugh at you. And your parents-gods, your parents wouldn't understand. Lusting after a girl? A Malfoy, at that? Your mum, Angelina, has told you more than one tale of her Quidditch exploits against the Slytherin team, of the under-handed tricks Selena's father would play. You're sure he's changed, you're sure Selena's not like that, but you doubt your mum or dad will listen. It's bad enough you weren't Sorted into Gryffindor. Hufflepuff's a "load of duffers," as your father once colourfully said in your hearing, and made your ears burn and your shoulders slump in shame.
It's not your fault you aren't brave like your parents. Like Harry Potter, the hero who visits your home all the time, three children in tow. You have nothing in common with any of them. James, the boy who takes after his grandfather, who hates the Snakes and ignores the Puffs. Al, the shy boy in Ravenclaw, who rarely takes his nose out of a book. Lily Luna, the rebel who only landed in Slytherin to anger her parents. They talk and you listen. They fill up a room, and you hide in a corner, fading into the wallpaper.
Your own older brother is in Gryffindor. Carries on the pride of the family name. Even has the trademark Weasley hair. You? No one notices you. To be honest, you kind of like it that way. There's less pressure.
Then one day, Selena stops by you, where you sit hunched on a rock, pretending to study, and smiles at you.
"Hey, Roxanne," she says, and carries on. You sit up, transfixed. She knows your name. And the world feels brighter.
"Hey, Selena," you whisper to yourself as your cheeks burn and your knees wobble.
It continues. She never says much, but she always speaks to you, always acknowledges you're there. Not even your brother does that, and you start to wonder why. She's never participated in pranks before, but this has to be a prank, doesn't it? But you can't see how. You start to open up to her when she asks you how you are. Speak briefly, though longingly, about how you hate being in Hufflepuff. How you blend into the wallpaper. You never speak of your feelings, but you're sure your eyes speak for you. She tells you about her day, about the latest gossip. About her life in the Malfoy household, what Scorpius does to tease her.
I feel like I can be myself around you, she says one day, and you feel happier than you have since you were six and got your first training broom. Before your parents unloaded their expectations, their snuffed hopes and dreams, upon you and dreamed of you being the next Quidditch star when truth be told, you hated the game and only liked flying.
Selena likes flying, too, and sometimes you go up on the pitch together, not saying anything as you swoop around the stands, feeling the wind ruffle your hair and squint your eyes. It's a thing you share, something that's just yours, and you don't want to trade it for anything.
"I have something to tell you," Selena tells you after one of these sessions, her hair tousled, her expression unusually somber. You feel your breath stop, your heart thudding. This is it. This is when she tells you that she can't stand you, that it's all a trick. That you are worthless to her.
"I really like you, Roxanne," she continues, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from flinging your arms around her and proclaiming your love to the winds and the entire student body.
"I really like you, too," you manage to say instead, and her smile lights up the heavens for you.