WHEN: March 3rd, 2024 ( 5:02pm ) WHERE: The library WHO: @doesnttalkalot
She should’ve given it back the moment she found it. After all, she knew who it belonged to — she’d recognise that precise scrawl that decorated the pages anywhere. But oh, was it not just so intriguing? Persephone wasn’t a thief. When she’d tucked the little notebook into the pocket of her cloak, she’d had every intention of giving it back. She would find him in the library or in his common room or with his sisters and she would give it back. Nothing even needed to be said. A good thing, in her eyes — what would she say to the boy she hadn’t spoken to in nearly two years? I still think about you. You still catch my gaze. Do you still think of me? Am I a fool for holding onto a childhood fling? Questions and facts that no one could ever hear, of course. Persephone was careful, she liked to think, and Jasper Talkalot was the complete opposite of a careful, cautious decision.
Does he still think of me?
Three days after she’d found the book and it was still with her. It had hardly left her person at this stage. It was always either in her pocket, in her bag, tucked carefully beneath her pillow. She was going to return it. She needed to. And she had every intention of doing so as she walked through the halls towards the library, book clutched delicately in her hands. BUT THEN IT DROPPED. Fell from her fingers, onto the cobblestone floor, splayed open on a page filled from head to foot with another poem. And she would’ve closed it if her eyes hadn’t glazed over a line, a mention of a girl, flying over the Quidditch pitch, a chaser fair. And her heart skipped a beat and suddenly she wasn’t closing it, she was reading it and oh, was it not just so obvious who this was for? Another beat, and her breath hitched. Another line read and she felt dizzy. Should she smile or should she laugh? Should she love it or should she despise it? A chaser fair, left her lover behind. And he yearned. So did she...
Snapping the book shut with a decisive huff, Persephone charged forwards with a hurried urgency, moving towards the library where it was said he’d last been. She could pretend she’d just found it. She could tell him the truth. She could tell a half truth - she didn’t know what was in the book. She hadn’t looked! Or had she? The better option would usually have presented itself by now, but Persephone’s heart was racing and still it was not there. Asking him about it seemed like an awfully wonderful idea ( IN THEORY ). If she didn’t tell him what she found and instead what she felt, surely it would be reciprocated - it would be worth it ( IN THEORY ). But then... ( IN PRACTICE ) Persephone was sensible. She made decisions not on how they benefited her, but on how they benefited others. Falling in love with Jasper Talkalot was selfish. Telling him how she felt was greedy. Wasn’t it?
She wasn’t sure how long she’d now been standing outside the doors to the library, but it quite suddenly occurred to her she had to go in. Had to. Grasping for air in one final breath, she pushed through the doors, winding her way through the tables and shelves until she stood above him, book of poems tucked neatly beneath her arm. She should’ve thought this through more.
Clearing her throat, she offered a smile, opening her mouth so quiet, almost squeaky words could be heard. “I found something. I think it belongs to you.”

















