HP, Could You Buy Me a Watermelon?

A mindless story. If you don't like it, move along. The heroine's personality is just like this, and the story is a long one. I'm not mainly writing about Riddle; I'm writing from the heroine's perspective. There are lots of trivial little things, and the style is calm and easygoing.

The heroine is very pessimistic and highly empathetic. All her arrogance, smugness, and little schemes come from the cleverness she imagined she had when she was young and ignorant, but deep down she's indifferent. Even though she acts silly and adorable early in the story, it's because she's trying to fit the image people can accept. That's why she becomes so strange later at Hogwarts: she's a born pessimist.

Pessimistic, sensitive, suspicious, fond of little tricks: all of that is who she is. She's not perfect, and she's not well-behaved.

She's full of contradictions, but she's also ordinary. Rather than writing about her and Riddle loving and fighting each other, keeping him company, or whatever else, I prefer to write casually about how she grows from a little kid at an orphanage into a fully formed person. Her eventual death, her ordinariness, her fall, her brilliance: all of it is destined.

I can't sum up what Riddle should be like, but he is the way I imagine him.

No mindless romance, no mindless romance, no mindless romance. The heroine has sound values, is afraid of dying first and blood second, and the romance develops slowly. During their school years, maybe they'll... at most, hug a few more times?

The heroine is afraid of men, while Riddle hates women (shrugs helplessly).

During their school years, Riddle's affection and kindness depend entirely on the orphanage chapters. His characterization may be a little out of character.

Formal introduction:

So many things in life are too heavy and winding to speak of. I want you to understand.

A person walking along the river of time has only ever paid attention to one snowfall in her life. When someone asks what year it was, she smiles and says she's forgotten. They say she must have a secret she doesn't want to share. She shakes her head. She really has forgotten.

It seems everyone has forgotten so much, while I'm the only one who remembers. It's unfair, and it hurts me.

I know you were born cruel, raised in the mire, and longed to climb to the top of the cliffs.

You wandered through a life of hardship and upheaval, devoted to brutality and bloodshed, obsessed with power and fame.

When the world refused to weave you a crown of laurels, you set out to forge a crown that would be yours alone.

You are so chaotic that even your soul is filthy.

I struggle to make a living because of the weakness and fear in my bones.

If I bury my face in the deep snow and move my lips to pray prayers no one else can hear,

only then can I truly find my own repentance.

Thinking of this, I can only keep rushing onward, stubbornly following my own path.

Tiffany: "When the boy rode over on his bamboo horse, he played around the well with green plums."

Riddle: "?"

Tiffany: "You don't understand? Then I'll pass. Pretend I didn't say anything."

The story of a low-key Ravenclaw and Slytherin's belle

Disclaimer: None of the original characters in this story exist to help Riddle and Tiffany get together. They have their own stories and worlds, and are ordinary people living in the world as it is set up.

The heroine transmigrates and treats the world and everyone she meets as equals. Even if she dislikes someone, she'll give them basic respect. She always tries courtesy before force.

Just read it as a collection of little stories. My writing is a mess, too, but I'm working to improve.

Theme: Creating for the love of it