❝Despite her namesake, Cupid McLean has had an awfully bad run with love- both family or otherwise. If her past is any indication, it would seem that, no matter which way the arrow of her heart seems to point, it always manages to end up in the wron...
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THIS YEAR WILL BE DIFFERENT, this year will be different.
Cupid had been repeating the words to herself for the past two weeks, counting down the days as they passed. With every minute that drew closer to her return to Hogwarts, anxiety grew like a shadow. From where she lay on her bed, stomach flat on the sheets, Cupid stared at the small pile of letters on her desk.
There were so few of them in comparison to the years before─ all open, save for one.
It had been sitting there for weeks now, having arrived a few days after the school year had ended. She would admit that there were days when she was tempted to tear it open. But, there were also days where she was tempted to tear it apart.
She could never do either.
Cupid sat up, reaching across the space to pluck the unopened envelope from its spot. Her chest burned as she stared at the name engraved on the front, but she couldn't figure out if it was from the hurt or the anger. It was too hard to tell by now.
Truthfully, Cupid was just tired. Tired of being a fool, of being toyed with, and of people thinking they could make her any less than what she was. But, above all, the McLean girl was tired of letting them.
She drew in a deep breath, bringing the bottom of the envelope over the edge of the flame on her desk. The candlelight flickered around the paper, hesitating only a moment before catching fire. As the letter burned and burned, drawing closer to her fingers, Cupid refused to let go until she was sure nothing remained of the name written on the front.
As the last traces of the D disappeared, something inside her seemed to fall at ease.
Cupid dropped the remnants of the letter onto her desk, fingers still smarting from the heat. She watched as the fire ate away at what was left, until all that remained were only a few pieces of ash. Through the half-opened window above her desk, a soft breeze blew in, fluttering the curtains and taking with it the remains of Draco Malfoy's words.
Cupid blew out the candle and turned off her lamp, allowing the darkness in her room to deepen. She laid back down, burrowing into the covers. As she closed her eyes, she told herself once more with promise in her heart; starting tomorrow, I swear, I'll be different.
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The next morning, Cupid found that change wasn't as easy as she thought it to be.
