Accidentally in Love / drarry

September, 1999

These lines of lightning 

Mean we're never alone,

Never alone, no, no

***

Thursday, July 1, 1999

Dear bloody diary,

To get it out of the way, I have to say that I feel like a proper pillock writing a sodding journal. In my opinion it is the tacky business of pitiful people wishing to dwell on their mundane problems as much as they can. Alas, Dr Edwards, the old bat, thinks it'll be 'good for my disposition' or whatever the fuck, so here we are. I pray to Circe that no one will ever read this wretched book again, including myself, and I plan on casting a variety of selected protection and sealing charms as soon as I'm finished writing this entry. Maybe I'll Incendio the whole bloody thing when it's filled out.

Well, I suppose for the time being it's just you and me, or rather, me and me. Dr Edwards instructed me to report my complete and unfiltered thoughts to 'relieve my emotional baggage' whenever I feel like I should, so you can consider this my opening entry. Here it goes...

In thirty days, I am to board the Hogwarts Express for what I hope to be the last time. I still can't quite believe mother managed to turn my head and convince me to go back to that second-rate school with those tawdry cretins. I maintain that Durmstrang would have been a much more suitable fit for me. What's worse, for the nine months that I'm there, I'll no doubt have to endure the perpetual contempt of the other students after my last scandalous egress from the establishment. Not that I care what anyone thinks of me – because I don't –, I just wish to be left to my studies, and not forced to interact with anyone for any longer than I absolutely have to. At least I'll have Blaise and Greg to keep me company, no matter how tedious. Blaise's reports of society gossip and news have gotten exceedingly repetitive lately, although I suppose I should be grateful for his persistence in my circle this past year, no matter how banal. An act that certainly applies to few these days. Oh well, no sense in wallowing about in self-pity even though I am writing a journal now. Good bloody riddance to everyone whose owls no longer dare visit the Manor grounds. Cowards, the lot of them. Thankfully, the papers have laid off me the last few months, I suppose that is the most I dare hope for. In the coming year I shall expect antipathy and hope for indifference.

That concludes my first entry.

***

One year, three months, and thirty days since the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Did you know they're publishing the second edition of Hogwarts: A History?" Hermione remarked to no one in particular as she was taking her seat by the window in the Hogwarts Express, "I heard it's going to feature all about the Battle and the rebuilding of the castle, how frighteningly exciting, isn't it? The original was published fifteen years ago already, I thought it's time they revise it–"

"Only you could care about the revision of an extracurricular book," Ron rolled his eyes, but was quick to add, "and that's why I love you," upon catching her withering look. "Now scootch love, I think Luna and Neville are still coming." He flopped down next to a strict-looking Hermione, her expression softening when Ron put one arm around her. "Blimey, I swear there were ten times the people on the platform than usual!" Ron shook his head, his flaming red hair framing his face like a fire.

"I hate to say it but, there might have been some people just to see Harry." Hermione looked apologetic as she voiced the thought all three of them already had.