#housewarden

        To many of the diverse students, it was obvious that the Prefect was one of these dreamers. Beautiful, intelligent, and funny - many people desired to be with her. Princes, stars, the most stubborn, and the highest fallen trailed behind her so that they may simply be by her. The world seemed to surround her with a haunting aura of surrealness, one craved to be held by all; however, there was one exception to this everyday normalcy surrounding the Prefect. 

        The Housewarden of Heartslabyul detested the girl, despite her best efforts to be close to him. The intelligence he often admired in others made him feel like prey cornered with nowhere to run. Her beauty, so natural and healthy, made him detest the behaviors of those surrounding her, and in turn, he grew to hate her more and more with every passing day. Sadly, this time her natural humor won't be enough to sway the housewarden. Riddle hated her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled, and the way she had no mannerisms to her behavior. The Housewarden of Heartslabyul was nothing if not a strict believer in rules, and that does not disclude the rules of proper etiquette. 

        While many would either be thrilled or thoroughly upset to be followed by so many men, the Prefect was indifferent to the behavior of her many companions. Men had always fallen around her for as long as she could remember, but despite this, she was adored for her neverending kindness. Even after so many years, she never let the behavior of the people around her affect her kindness and generosity. Despite all those years, she had never encountered someone who she truly loved in return; however, when her eyes met those of Riddle Roseheart's her own heart skipped a beat. His fierce yet delicate beauty was like a magnet to her. The way he composes himself with such intellect and dignity made her swoon and dream over him day and night. His unique humor and mannerisms only entwined her deeper and deeper into the sense of longing she felt in her chest. As many of the students had guessed, the Prefect was indeed a dreamer, a hopeless dreamer wading through the neverending current of this harsh and straining school hoping and praying that the boat will turn around and save her. Hoping that Riddle will turn around and save her heart that is sinking slowly deeper into hopeless love and despair every day. 

        That day never came. Tea parties came and went. The season colors bled and melted into different seasons until finally, it was Christmas break. While eventful, the Prefect longed for Riddle to return, only if it meant she could say hi. While eventful, the break was quickly over and students began to trickle back to the campus one by one, till eventually, they were all back safe and sound. The Prefect, in anticipation, had made a huge tart for the Heartslabyul boys upon their return, and the tart may or may not have been strawberry flavored. She'd never worked so hard on any other sweet before in her life. 

        After telling Grim her plans, she slowly and carefully made her way to the now bustling Heartslabyul. Friends reuniting and preparing for the near semester were scattered all throughout the garden. Their jackets zipped up and mittens pulled over their cold hands. Walking into the dorm that had been so quiet until recently, the Prefect let out a small sigh of contentment and a smile slipped onto her face. Navigating through the huge spiraling building, she eventually comes to the entry to the kitchen where she could hear five distinct voices. 

        "I can't wait to tell Prefect about my break! It was crazy!" exclaims Ace, the thrill of being home for a period of time evident in his voice. 

        A chuckle broke out and the voice suddenly added to the conversation, "Well, I brought the Prefect a present. I hope she'll like it. I tried really hard to pick the perfect gift. My mom even helped me!" exclaimed Deuce excitedly and a little nervously. 

        The sound of the oven door closing could be heard, "Well," began Trey, his brotherly voice warm and comforting, "I'm sure she'll love whatever you got for her Deuce knowing how much work you put into the selection."

        "Ditto!" exclaimed Cater's animated voice, cutting through the homey atmosphere yet seemingly belonging perfectly. 

        A very dainty cough suddenly sounds through the room, the Housewarden demanding the floor, "I don't understand what you all see in her. Past her beauty what is there? Her intellect feels cunning, ready to pounce and swipe at any moment. Her beauty makes men fall at her feet like they have no will, making everything a disaster wherever she goes. Not to mention, she really isn't that funny. I don't see what any of you see in her. In fact, I quite loathe her and her very existence."

        Ah yes, love is such a beautiful thing and such a wicked curse. It makes you blind to all their faults and even makes you put them before your own mental and emotional well-being. How does a thing like that get started? A dreamer falls in love with a lighter. The one who starts the fire and either keeps it going or turns it into a destructive and brutal force. 

        Does the Prefect remember dropping the tart? No. Does she remember the silence that fell throughout the kitchen when the glass shattered and slid under the kitchen door, red covering the edges? No. Does she remember the glass cutting her hand and mixing with the tart as she sprinted down the twisting and turning hallways in the huge dormitory? No. Neither does she remember the shouts of her friends as they chased her through the halls. The garden is only but a blur in her memory, unimportant when compared to her emotions. Her skirt flies behind her as her hair falls out of its updo, trailing wisps of silky hair behind her. Nor does she remember running into the forest to escape her friends. No, all the Prefect can remember from the horrendous and earth-shattering catastrophe was the feeling that her heart was going to beat out of her chest and the feeling of tears as they blurred her vision and streaked her simple mascara down her cheeks and onto her dress. 

       She never saw Riddle's face, frozen in shock and horror. She never saw her friends' abject terror at being unable to find the poor girl in the forest. She will never know that everyone began to search for her, through the dark, the cold, and the wetness, they braved their way for her. No, all she remembers is that horrible feeling of the world collapsing in on her, and in her confusion, she failed to see the small yet steep drop-off in front of her. Falling head first, she falls and dreams of never having met Riddle Rosehearts as her head hits the hard stone and blackness consumes her limp body.