Chapter One Whoever would have thought that starlight could be threatening? Tonight I thought that very thing. Stars floating in the oblivion above poured light upon my secret walk. As I crept, quiet as an owl in midnight flight the stars threatened to uncover the mysteries of my stroll in the dark hours. I was terrified of getting caught and having to make up some unbelievable excuse for my night-time wandering. Although I did have a stack of pre-baked excuses ready to use when they were needed. One was that I was sleepwalking, another that I thought I could hear an injured animal crying. These were by far the best of the bunch, but as unoriginal as they were they were all I could come up with; and believe me, I’d been stretching my imagination to it’s pitiful limit, but let’s not get into the tragedies of my under nourished imagination. The moon was a crescent, a sly smile mocking my attempts at going about my business unnoticed. The way I’m telling this story makes it sound as though I had been travelling for hours over harsh landscape. When in actual fact I had only snuck down two flights of stairs, along one corridor, out a door, down one long path, through an archway wreathed in ivy arms, and out into the courtyard which was the destination of my one-girl mission. The courtyard is large and sheltered by overgrown evergreens too tall to see over, even from the highest windows. It is seldom used by professor or student. I’m not sure exactly why but I think it must have something to do with a rumour, started by some stupid first year trying to make a name for him or herself, that stuck to the school like the ghosts, as so many do. It’s lucky that the courtyard is barely occupied, otherwise the forbidden lovers who have made it their place to whisper sweet everythings and cry sorrowful tears would have no almost-safe place to do those lovely things without being seen.

One of the pair of forbidden lovers walked over to an old stone bench in the far-left corner of the yard. She sat and waited in perfect silence for her unintended to arrive. Of course he wasn’t there yet; he’s male, what do you expect? I shouldn’t really say that as I’m the one who is usually late, but that’s only because I’m normally more careful on my journey. Tonight I was far too excited to be as careful as usual. I had only glimpsed my fair-haired prince in the dining hall and out of the corner of my eye at the sorting ceremony. The sorting ceremony is such a tedious event to have to attend every year, I suppose some people enjoy it though. Crazy. Back to my subject; tonight and my fair-haired prince…

We hadn’t had the chance to see each other properly since the end of last term. My goodness, I don’t know how I managed to keep my heart from ceasing it’s beat. The occasional letter was written and sent via post owl, but we were so terrified of getting caught that we adopted fake names and used owls from other households to protect the original home of the letter. Merlin only knows what might have happened if our letters had wound up in the wrong hands. I don’t even want to think about it. The letters that I wrote to my prince were written on the finest parchment I could find, and written in my neatest, most perfect handwriting, with my best quill and ink. I even dabbed a little of my favourite perfume onto the parchment so that he could smell me even if he couldn’t see me. The letters I received from him were incredibly long and beautifully crafted; the parchment felt like silk against my skin, ink of the deepest black formed word and sentences of love and sorrow. His letters were more like Shakespearean verse than an ordinary love letter. I have never read anything so beautiful. I must have read each line at least a thousand times. By the end of the holidays I could recite parts of the letters by heart, and his wonderful words swam in continuous ribbons through my mind. I was in a daze all holiday, 'away with the faeries' is what mum said, although she had no idea why. Thank goodness.

Before I sat down on the ancient bench I placed a single red rose in the centre of the immense courtyard. This was our signal that the other was already there. The bench is partly hidden by overhanging branches so that it makes the perfect spot to hide from prying eyes and passers by. I sat at the end of the bench most thickly covered by greenery and waited in the anticipation of seeing my blond-haired prince for the first time in what felt like centuries. I hadn’t been waiting long when I heard the light tapping of rhythmic footsteps upon the worn grey slabs, which made up a solid floor. Those oh-so familiar butterflies began to flutter their petite wings in my empty stomach. As the footsteps grew louder and closer the tiny butterflies made their way up to my heart, where they flapped those minute wings so vigorously that I thought they might explode from my chest. Thankfully that didn’t happen. The footsteps stopped – he’d picked up my rose. They started again – closer, closer, louder, louder, until one long leg swathed in night-black stretched into my line of vision. It was followed by another and a perfectly sculpted, healthy body. The most beautiful head I have ever laid my young eyes upon sat atop a strong neck and shoulders. A mixture of relief and excitement froze my lips and throat; I could not speak a word. Happiness overwhelmed me and flooded from my eyes in salty oceans of tears. As though the life were pouring from me; I choked a little, but managed to calm myself with a few deep breaths. I had stood up from my seat of expectation and wrapped my arms heavily about my sweetheart’s shoulders, draping myself over him like some extravagant robe. I pulled back and looked into his eyes, were they blue or were they brown? I couldn’t focus my attention on them; there was so much to take in. We sat upon the time-eroded bench and stared into each other’s tear stained faces. In his hands he held the two roses; one mine, one his. We had picked them from a rose bush that marked the edge of a pathway in the grounds, and put an enchantment upon them so that they would not wither away until our love for each other died. We also made sure that the roses were invisible to anyone but the two of us. The spell was complicated but we managed to accomplish our desired results first time around. It involved a strand of hair from the lovers’ heads, an extremely potent invisibility potion which we had stolen from the top shelf of Snape’s store cupboard, and a rather lengthy chant to be chanted under a full moon at midnight. We had enchanted the roses back in April last year when we first spoke of our love. It was under rather strained circumstances that the realisation of our forbidden attraction was spoken for the first time, but that’s another story.

A gentle white finger swept hair from my face and tucked it carefully behind my right ear. He had placed the enchanted roses beside him on the bench so that we could sit with our knees touching and my right hand in his left. His hair was spiked slightly but otherwise scruffy, just the way I like it. The scents radiating from his pale skin into the air were not the usual manufactured chemical sprays that everyone else wears. They were aromas of cinnamon, ginger, and a hint of apple cider. He smelt delicious, edible. The effort he had put into looking nice for me was more than obvious, but that’s good; it shows he cares. He wore a long hooded robe of black velvet, so luxurious that it took my breath away. I began to wish that I had worn something different, the sleeveless dress I was wearing is my favourite but the air was chill, and goose pimples were erupting all over my arms. It’s amazing how all those stars burning so bright up there produce such little heat for us night-time wanderers and stay warm under. My beautiful prince must have noticed that I was in the beginning stages of looking like a chicken plucked of its feathers because he opened his robe and snuggled me inside. His body was warm and firm, I felt safer than I had in a long time tucked up against his torso. That smell was so intense, I could have drifted off into dreamland I was so comfortable.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” I felt rather than heard these words. It had been so long since my ears had been graced by his sweet voice.

“Yes, I do”.

“So do I. I’m certain that we’re soul mates. We’re destined to be together, I’m sure of it” His voice was so soft and full of honesty, such a contrast to the façade he puts up in front if his peers and family. I feel so honoured to be able to know this side of him when no one else does. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Secret relationships are not all they’re cracked up to be.

“We are soul mates. This connection that we have can’t be anything but the bonding of our souls. We are soul mates” He smiled down on me like droplets of sunshine, causing my lips to imitate the shape of his. We smiled at each other, just smiled. It was so comfortable, even the silence of out voices was comfortable. There was no need to speak; our smiles and sighs said it all, loud and clear. If anyone had walked in on us I don’t think we would have cared, I know that I could have died there and been quite happy about it. Nothing else matters when we’re together. I am so in love that words cannot express the depth of my emotions. It feels absolutely wonderful. My goodness, I sound so cliché.

“I love you”, the syllables rolled off my tongue without being told to, as though they couldn’t hold themselves back any longer, they had to escape.

He pulled me up and drew me close to him so that I could feel his breath upon my lips. The kiss that came next was slow and long, euphoric like the peak of happiness. We lingered there, lips melted together, tongues touching. It felt like we were merging into one being. Our mouths were the same temperature, they were the same mouth. Saliva mixed together like gentle waves, coiling through our one lovely mouth in whirls of grace.

“I love you too Ginevra. How could I not? You are divine”, we fell into a tender embrace.