Twenty-Four Hours
Twenty-four hours of storms and terrible wheather, changing so much that one moment it was all snow and the next it was hail. How she longed for the end. She missed the butterflies. Butterflies where such beautiful and graceful beings. The showed everything that she had longed to be. Free. Beautiful. Graceful. It was twenty-four more hours until she was home with her butterflies. It had been twenty-four hours since she had left, and now it was twenty-four hours until she returned. No one would ever know of Lavender Brown's dream to be a butterfly, even if it was only tempoary.