Ballad for the Lost Romantics

BALLAD FOR THE LOST ROMANTICS

CHAPTER 2

~*~

I was going to write a column on my experiences with unrequited love.

~*~

And so, later that very same night I wrote the first of many articles that were to take Hogwarts by storm.

I won't go into details about how spiritually enlightening it was to finally give my emotions full reign for the simple reason that there are no words to come even close at describing it. To put it lamely, I felt as though I was finally breathing after years of holding in my breath. Looking back on it now, I realize that is quite the understatement.

But enough about breathing and understatements and back to more important issues; after thinking of a writing pseudonym and a title for my column, I nervously went up to the school's courtesy owlery and sent off my article.

Three days later I was the proud recipient of an owl stating that my unique column had been delightfully accepted and that a new article would be expected before the end of October. Three weeks flew by and on the unremarkable date of October first, the school paper, entitled The Hogwarts Times, was delivered to each Common Room respectively.

Now, you might be wondering what I had been doing for the duration of those three weeks, but I'm going to be frank with you; I have absolutely no idea. The days after receiving my acceptance owl had flown by in a blur, as they were wont to do when you were dreading a certain date.

I was too preoccupied with whether or not my classmates would appreciate my articles, or mock them. It was, in all aspects, a very personal account on my views of love. Anyway, I am, once again, digressing from the issue.

As I was saying, the long anticipated paper had arrived. I woke up late that morning, having spent a good deal of the night lying awake and worrying over the paper's debut. Sluggishly I crawled down the stairs only to be cornered, quite literally, but an over-excited Ginny.

"Hermione! The paper's here, look!" she gushed, shoving what I assumed to be the said paper opened to page three into my face.

The first thing to catch my tired eyes was two words: 'Dear Ginny.'

"Ginny, you have your own advice column? Why didn't you tell me?" I smiled, genuinely happy for my friend.

I was most surprised when Ginny rolled her eyes, exclaiming, "Who cares about that, Hermione. Look at the article above it," she ordered impatiently.

Perhaps it was fate that had Ginny frantically pointing out this column, or, more likely, it was coincidence. But whatever it was is not important.

Curiously I began to focus on the article Ginny was so excited about, my eyes widening only slightly as I realized that it was mine.

Precisely three and a half weeks after This Author's thirteenth birthday, she fell in love. I had known it was love because my world began to dramatically spin around me, my heart had quickened pace and I was gasping for air. And, Dear Reader, I can honestly say that the man in question felt exactly the same.

Oh no, not the love part. The man This Author loves (who shall remain nameless) did not fall helplessly in love with me as I did with him. In fact, I can both truthfully and sadly admit that the man inspiring such feelings within me is hopelessly clueless about it.

But, This Author is happy to rely, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that his world spun around him, his heart had quickened pace, and he couldn't catch his breath; playing Quidditch tends to take a lot out of a person.

It happened thus:

A certain be speckled Gryffindor Seeker had been having trouble searching for the Golden Snitch, given the atrocious weather conditions. A certain Quidditch captain had called for a time out and the object of my affections haphazardly came spiraling (his world spinning around him) down to a halt. He was very tired from the stalemate game and was breathing heavily (gasping for breath). Adrenaline was coursing through his veins (making his heart quicken pace) as he frantically pondered their dilemma.

Now, I will not bore you, friends, with the specifics that led up to this accounting. All I can say is that I had fancied this Quidditch player for quite sometime, unsure of the seriousness of my emotions.

The gravity of the depth of my emotions became achingly clear with one simple look at me from him. It was as if all of the pieces fell into place and I was finally seeing the bigger picture. My heart began to slam painfully against my chest as I stared into his expressional eyes. The profound emotions I saw running across his face left me dizzy and lightheaded; taking my very breath away with their complexity. And that was when This Author realized she was in love.

So, what happened next, you may ask? Well, it's quite simple; This Author ran away as fast as she could. That's right, I fled when I came face to face with love and I'd do it again, do you know why? It was because I knew he'd never feel the same for me. Sure, said Quidditch player looked as if he could've kissed me right then and there, but I knew it would have only been because I had helped his team, and not because he reciprocated my feelings. This Author has no illusions. It was only my help he loved, not me.

And so I just turned around and high-tailed it out of there before I could be disappointed, taking with me a secret I swore I'd to take to the grave...

So why, you may ask, am I writing this? It's quite simple, really; This Author intends to share her personal accountings with unrequited love for the plain reason of that the secret has, quite frankly, become too painful and burdensome to bear alone.

So please, Beloved Hogwarts, indulge a star-crossed lover who finally has an audience to ignore her. Here's to us fools that have no meaning and to a ballad for the Lost Romantics!

Lady Rowena's Ballad for the Lost Romantics

~*~

I read the article, fighting the urge to heave a sigh. There it was all down in print; my secret for all of Hogwarts to see and take as they would. It was out of my hands now; all I could do was just wait and see what would happen. Nevertheless, a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and a feeling of extreme relaxation overcame me.

"What about it, Ginny?" I asked my friend who was keenly awaiting my response.

Her eyes widened incredulously. "What do you mean, 'what about it'? That's the most beautiful and yet tragic tale I've ever heard!" she proclaimed.

I couldn't believe my ears. Surely, she was over exaggerating. "You must not get out much, then," I said sympathetically, more to just annoy Ginny than anything else. She is, after all, very humorous when she gets frustrated.

"Hermione, how can you not see the heartbreaking grief that she uses in her writing? She sounds so lonely," Ginny trailed off sadly.

That was when the moment became awkward for me. It was very strange hearing Ginny talk about me as a third person; of course, mind you, she had no clue yet that I was Lady Rowena, but it was all odd just the same.

I gave a defeated sigh. It was true; I was lonely. "Yes, well, there's nothing she can really do about her situation, so let's not wallow around here worrying about someone else's love life; we do have our own to consider," I pointed out in a dry tone so that Ginny wouldn't notice my own underlying misery.

That did it. "Right," Ginny chirped. "Come on, Harry and Ron are waiting for us in the Great Hall."

With that said, the younger girl hauled me off to breakfast. We sat at our usual seats, Ginny across from me while I sat in the middle of Harry and Ron. The whole Hall was abuzz, eagerly gossiping about Hogwarts' first edition of the school paper.

"-just like Romeo and Juliet,"

"-I cried after I finished reading it..."

"-I wonder who she is-"

"-I wonder who he is-"

Those were just a few of the statements that met my ears as I took my seat. They were talking about my article, I knew. As I poured some maple syrup on my hotcakes, I suppressed the urge to grin.

"Hey 'Mione, read the paper?" asked Ron conversationally.

I turned to him with a fond smile. "Just a bit, why?"

He didn't even look up from shoveling his food into his mouth. "Everyone's all sixes and sevens 'bout that Lady Rowena column," he informed.

Harry decided to join in the conversation. "I'm in her column, did you know?"

I smiled, raising an amused brow while trying very hard not to laugh. He sounded very excited about being mentioned. "Is that so?" I indulged

He grinned, taking up the paper which was folded back to my article and leaned in to show me. "A certain be speckled Gryffindor Seeker- that's me," he exclaimed, puffing out his chest importantly.

This time I had to laugh. "Congratulations, Harry, you must be so proud!"

Harry went through the trouble of appearing hurt and indignant for show. "Herm, I just wanted to make sure you knew it was me is all."

I had to smile at his small, 'I am going to cry and it is your fault' tone of voice. "Yes, Harry; I knew."

Ginny spoke up from across the table, "Well, if you know everything, Miss Smarty Pants, tell us the identity of one Lady Rowena," she challenged.

I looked at Ginny and in all seriousness said, "Alright, Ginny, if that's what you wish. Lady Rowena was one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Ravenclaw House is named after her; Ravenclaw being her maiden name."

She gave me a withering look. "Hardy-har-har," she deadpanned.

I snorted at her dry tone. "I don't see what the big deal is, I mean; it's just one article."

Ginny, and some other Gryffindor girls nearby, appeared scandalized. "Hermione, if you don't understand, then it can't be explained to you," she said solemnly.

I didn't really know why I felt the urge to try and dampen the hype about my article. At first, I think I thought it was merely funny, seeing their shocked, traumatized expressions. But, as I look back on it now, I think it was more because I was scared of what a big success it was. I mean, there I was earlier that night, tossing and turning about whether or not people would like my column, and then I wake up to find that everyone not only liked it, but loved it. It was very disconcerting.