I didn't tell Nathaniel this, but when I left Wales the night before we were to return to Hogwarts from the winter hols, I packed twice once I got home: once for Hogwarts and for my last term here, and then again for . . . I don't even know what to call it. For later? When I packed for school, I looked about my bedroom, and I wondered Will this be the last time I see my own room?
I know that if Nat's secret comes to light that my parents will not tolerate it. What happened with Justin and his parents last year likely killed any amenability they might possibly have toward the non-pureblooded; the only difference might be that Nat is a pureblood. He is. Except for the actual blood. And I know that sounds barking mad to say, but it's true -- he's as pureblooded as I am. And what's especially odd is that he's so pureblooded, he would likely excuse my parents' rejection of him and him and I as perfectly reasonable. I don't know what to think. I don't know what to think about anything anymore. Being pureblooded means something; I just don't know what means pureblooded anymore.
For the past ten days or so, I've found myself waking at night, rather upset and uncomfortable, but not knowing why. That's unusual -- I'm usually quite clear on what's currently hacking me off or whatever. So I slip out of the dorm and make my way over to Nat's dorm as quietly as I can, and I crawl into bed with him, and he never minds, even though it's hard to sleep two people to a single bed. He is exceedingly patient with me -- doesn't ask what's wrong, doesn't try and take advantage of the situation, just hands over a pillow and budges over. I'm not sure what's wrong anyway -- I mean, there's the obvious, his father knowing the truth about his heritage. But it's not that. I slept all right the first few nights after Nat told me what happened; it's only been since the 2nd that I've not been able to sleep well. I feel as if everything I have, everything I am, will be taken away from me. God, I hope those stupid bloody Them things aren't back in the castle -- if they are, I'm hexing Potter's arse straight away. He really attracts vermin like nobody's business. Anyhow, lately things have felt like . . . just heavy with a strange haze of deja vu. Or something. I don't quite feel myself for some reason. It's getting better, but it's been very disconcerting, yeah.
Quite honestly, if I didn't have Nathaniel, I don't know what I would do. Which means I won't go without him. Which leads me back to packing . . . the night before the train ride, I looked about my room and I packed up all the things that I felt I couldn't live without. Surprisingly there were very few things that I found I couldn't live without -- pictures, mostly, but also the book Justin gave me for not this Christmas past, but the one before, the bracelet and the song Zach gave me, my pink beater's bat from Blaise, all the notes Draco and I've written to one another throughout the years, the teacup and saucer from Millicent, and of course I've got my ring from Nathaniel on my finger. Also, a picture of my parents . . . well, several pictures. My baby quilt. The crystal pansy from my nightstand, that drops its petals when I tap it with my wand. Rangoon! Les Miserables. My pensieve. That's it, really. Everything I need is in my head and Nathaniel's head. All other things are incidental. For I will not leave him. Ever.
Because of what happened with Mr. Warrington over the hols, I haven't had a chance to ask Nat what he thought about Blaise's bizarre behaviour at the New Years Eve party. She disappeared completely, and Draco was in a foul mood afterward. I'll wager Blaise floo'ed over to Justin's house . . . well, she couldn't have. I doubt a Muggle house is on the Floo network. Anyhow, Draco was right royally hacked off, and he sulked on the sofa in the drawing room where we'd all gathered, and I couldn't even cheer him up with wine or blackberry brandy. The conversation of a few days ago confirmed my suspicion, if not outright: Blaise went to see Justin, and they fancy each other something awful, and this angers Draco -- but that's not all. Justin just doesn't understand that it's a matter of personal safety for Blaise, and he never will. He's just not discreet in that way -- his heart's on his sleeve, even when it's dangerous! I did take him aside and tried to explain the situation to him as best I could without giving away specific details about Blaise's parents (which is certainly better than how she would have behaved, were she given the chance -- she told Justin about my father's role in his parents' disappearance after all! Which was incredibly stupid, and for further which I hold a bit of a grudge still!), but I don't think I can adequately explain it to him. He hasn't lived how we've lived, and he just doesn't understand how things work. But I'm not going to flash pictures of gravemarkers and cemeteries at him this time. It wouldn't do any good. He and Blaise will both do what they like.
I keep thinking about that Muggle magazine article I read last summer. And I'm compelled to do tarot readings. And I keep waking up feeling not myself, and needing to cling to my best friend like a stupid, silly baby (it's after midnight now; must be crawling to the boys' room now). Things are strange indeed. And I expect I just realised that I'll never ride the Hogwarts Express to school again, likely. How odd. An unnoticed, last ride.
I'm feeling: restless
Music In My Mind: Voldetaire: Dead Girls