A/N: Whoop whoop! Idek what this story is; it just popped into my head, and it's past 2 AM here and I've been writing this for half a hour. I'm tired. Ugh. Anyway. Enjoy.
Word count: 558
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: DADA Assignment #10 – Write with close to no dialogues. Max 5 lines.
May Events Checklist: Symbols of May/3 – Write about a Slytherin, Silly Holidays/22 – Include a notebook in your story.
Notebook in hand, Pansy Parkinson plopped down onto her emerald green sofa, watching the vibrant flames dancing playfully in her fireplace. It radiated warmth; warmth that she didn't want to feel on her skin. Staying cold and rigid fit better with her current mood; her glare, which she studied the notebook with was a good indicator.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, the dark-haired girl flipped the journal open, her eyes scanning over the page in a rapid fashion. The first page was scribbled fully; a date written on the top, the paper filled with deep blue ink from top to bottom.
Pansy, after skimming through the page, started studying the writing more thoroughly, her frown deepening with every passing moment.
3rd September 1995, the date read.
It's been more than five years, a sudden thought flashed through Pansy's mind. And I still haven't forgotten. Still haven't forgotten what had happened between the two of us.
A shot of pain stabbed her in the chest upon reading the words she had scribbled down when she was fifteen years old. 1995 wasn't exactly the happiest year for her, as it wasn't for anybody in Magical Britain, nevertheless, she had cared less about it. She had still believed that maybe, one day, the two of them would lead a life together, simply because it had made sense then.
She had poured all her feelings onto these parchments in her tiny notebook; now, these feelings resurfaced as she was scrutinising the pages all over again like she had done so a lot of times in the past years. What made it especially painful that this was the day that she had to let go of it, finally. The day when she would have to cease this fight she had been having with herself, because she knew that he wouldn't be hers, ever.
He had gotten married earlier that day, and she was invited to the ceremony—which she attended, of course. Watching him and her bride walk down the aisle made it somewhat more real if nothing else.
Ever since the stabbing pain hadn't ceased to exist, instead, it intensified with every passing minute. Alas, Pansy knew that it wouldn't hurt much longer—she just needed one last glance at her diary before bidding goodbye to it.
Flipping through the pages, Pansy noticed once again that from time to time, her entries would be scarce; other timed, she wouldn't write anything at all. She couldn't quite remember what happened exactly on those days, but she supposed it must have been something good—since she most often wrote in her journal when she wasn't feeling alright.
After what seemed like hours—and it may as well have been hours—she had finally had enough of reminiscing. Accepting the ugly truth and moving on with a smile on her face would the best Pansy could do, and that's what she would do. Thrusting the diary towards the fire, the girl stood up from where she had been sitting until she could drop the book between the flames, watching it eat away the pages, burning Pansy's memories into ashes.
She had promised herself that she would never forget the boy she had once loved—maybe hadn't even loved; she didn't exactly know. This wasn't a goodbye to him; it was a goodbye to her past.
