FOUR

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𖥔 ࣪ ˖  ᤴONE  ˖ ࣪ ‹ 𖥔 ࣪║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║-love repeats

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𖥔 ࣪ ˖ ᤴONE ˖ ࣪ ‹ 𖥔 ࣪
║▌│█║▌│ █║▌│█│║▌║
-love repeats








Daisy sighed in relief as soon as she got back to the Longbottom manor. She immediately dumped the shopping that she was carrying for her grandmother on the kitchen counter.

They hadn't really managed to get a lot, her Grandmother giving her strict orders to only get things they needed.

Daisy claimed that she needed some prank supplies, but August gave her a menacing look and told her to stop being silly and to grow up.

Neville had gotten some things out of his own money, he had offered to buy some prank supplies for Daisy, but she said no because it was his money and he should spend it on himself or something for Luna.

Daisy didn't get money, only if she did chores around the house in the holidays. She didn't know why Neville got money, but she didn't. She had asked and the response she got was because she 'didn't work hard enough in school'

Daisy jogged straight up the marble stair case. Around each of the walls, there were pictures of Neville and Daisy. From years ago and recent.

The ones from her as a baby made her cringe, they looked so bad.

She was surprised when she first saw her Grandmother putting them up a few years ago. She didn't even know she had any. Augusta Longbottom would rarely show emotion to her grandkids. They reminded her too much of Alice and Frank.

She smiled fondly at them before coming to a halt outside her bedroom. She pushed it open and closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of cinnamon. It was her favourite smell. Hence why she had cinnamon candles all around her room.

She wouldn't light them, they were just for show.

She fell back onto her bed, her hair spraying out and looked up to the ceiling.

Daisy goes back to Hogwarts in a few days and she couldn't be more exited. O.W.L.S were this year and she was a little nervous for, but maybe a little studying won't kill her and maybe she could up her grades a bit.

The thing is, Daisy doesn't really like to study, she will do it if she absolutely has to do it. Otherwise there's no chance.

She stairs up at the ceiling, creating patterns in her head and looks at the door when she hears a knock.

The person doesn't wait for a response before turning the doorknob and showing themselves.

"Rude." Daisy mutters, rolling her head to the side, "I could've been doing something."

It turned out to her Grandmother and she was holding a piece of paper. She walked into her room and tossed the paper on her bed.

Daisy watched as it flew onto her bed and then looked at her Grandmother.

Augusta looked at her for a few seconds before saying, "That came downstairs." and she walked out the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Daisy groaned in frustration before getting up from her bed and shutting the door herself.

"People these days." she mutters, shaking her head and picking up the piece of paper on her bed.

It was a letter and it was addressed to her and everything.

She felt quite excited, she never really got letters, only if it was from an annoying Potter.

She rose one eyebrow before getting one finger and sliding it against the bit that was closing the envelope together.

She took the piece of paper out and read what it said in her head.

Dear the love of my life, the mother of my future children,

Hello my beautiful Daisy, how was your summer? Cant wait to go back to Hogwarts and see your beautiful face. You looked beautiful today by the way.

Sorry if my writings a bit sloppy, it's because Ron is breathing very heavily in my face right now and he won't go away. Its distracting me.

However I wrote you a poem to declare my love to
you-

Daisy felt like she read enough as she crunched the piece of paper into a ball and tossed it into the bin in the corner of her room, successfully going in.

She should of been surprised but she really wasn't. Everyday since they broke up for summer, she's been getting letters like that from the young Potter boy.

She had heaps of them in the bin, while some others she kept. Don't ask her why she kept some, because she doesn't know herself, maybe it's the way he writes his words.

He should be a poet.

It makes her feel like she's somewhat cared for, In a weird way.

But she would never tell anyone that she had kept a few letters in her draw. It would ruin her reputation of hating him.

She sighed, leaning back on her bed wondering what fifth year would bring.




࣪ ‹ 𖥔 ࣪
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𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘀, harry potterWhere stories live. Discover now