Monday December 26th 1977.
Boxing Day.
4:30 pm.
I know my sister Petunia far too well to imagine this diary is actually a christmas present from her and not purchased by my mother, but all the same I'm grateful to have it. I suddenly feel the need to try and get my thoughts into some sort of order, and to have a dairy as an organised and efficent way of doing this will hopefully make it easier. It's just like Remus always does whenever he needs to solve a problem: write it down and think about it in a sensible manner. Of course, I'm not entirely sure I can think in a sensible manner, but with this diary I shall endeavour to attempt to try.
Right.
Here goes.
The sensible and organised way to do this would be to start at the beginning. Which would be the first time I met him.
When I was eleven years old and standing in the middle of King's Cross train station surounded by strangers, with ten minutes to get on to a platform that, as far as I could tell, didn't exist, lost, alone, scared and almost in tears, a boy with messy black hair and blue-grey eyes came up to me and asked if I needed help. He said he noticed that I had an owl, and was wondering if I wanted someone to show me the way to get on to the Hogwarts Express. I was so relieved I started sobbing.
That was years ago, the first of many times James Potter has saved me.
James.
Over the years James has been: friend, confidant, rival, boyfriend (two weeks in third year), tutor, pupil, hated enemy (the time he turned my teeth green and I spent a month plotting revenge), nurse (when I twisted my ankle), co-conspirator, accountant, crisis-counsellor...the list goes on.
I am in love with him.
I only realised this today, so you can imagine why it has been something of a shock to me.
When I think about it, it was a stupid cause for an epiphany.
We had a snowball fight. (James, Sirius, Peter and me.)
My skin had gone blue and everyone was soaked by the time we all simultaneously gave up, because simultaneous yeilding is the only way the rivalry between James and Sirius has ever been settled.
Anyway, when we got back to the common room everyone was taking off their coats and scarfs and settling down by the fire to warm up a little, but I couldn't get my gloves off because my hands were too numb.
James, being the kind and wonderful and generally perfect person he is, saw this and came over to help me. He peeled off the sopping wet gloves, and began to rub my fingers to get some warmth back into them.
And I just suddenly felt winded, like all the strength had been knocked out of me.
It was very surreal. I was standing in the common room, which was the same as it always is, Sirius and Peter lounging by the fire like they always do, with James fussing like my mother like he always does and everything was perfestly normal except for the fact that I was completely different. Because I was suddenly so in love with James potter that I could hardly stand up. And the strangest thing was that I realized I had been all along, ever since that first day in King's Cross train station, and I hadn't even noticed.
Eventually, when James was satisfied that my fingers were warm enough, and probably a little unnerved by my silence, he let go of my hands. I managed to clear my head enough to tell them all I was going to get changed into some dry clothes. Then I bolted up to my dorm, locked the door, sat down on the bed and burst into tears.
That was two hours ago. After I stopped crying I changed, then sat on the floor with my back against the door staring silently at the wall like a crazy person for a long time, before deciding it would be more beneficial to write all this down and see how it looked on paper. Not very good so far.
It is simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing that my dorm mates have all gone home for the holidays. Good thing because if they were here they would think I was a lunatic on account of me staring blankly at the wall for ages. And I don't feel emotionally equipped to answer probing questions yet and put up with Becca talking about her and Sirius's perfect relationship in a sickening manner for hours on end, pretending to use it to demonstrate a point, but really just bragging.
It is a bad thing because this would be a lot easier if Jo was here. She is my best friend and is one of those people with the amazing talent of making everything seem incredibly easy.
Still, Jo is not here, and so I will have to handle this on my own in a confident, competent manner.
Damn. I just started crying again.
Authors Notes.
I read "Bridget Jones's Diary" all of today to try and avoid horrible maths assignment that is due Tuesday. Why do we have to go back to school? Why do holidays have to end? Why? Why?
Anyway, it kind of inspired me to write this (though I bet you already guessed that).
As always, comments are appreciated. I hope you liked it.
Uno.
Boxing Day.
4:30 pm.
I know my sister Petunia far too well to imagine this diary is actually a christmas present from her and not purchased by my mother, but all the same I'm grateful to have it. I suddenly feel the need to try and get my thoughts into some sort of order, and to have a dairy as an organised and efficent way of doing this will hopefully make it easier. It's just like Remus always does whenever he needs to solve a problem: write it down and think about it in a sensible manner. Of course, I'm not entirely sure I can think in a sensible manner, but with this diary I shall endeavour to attempt to try.
Right.
Here goes.
The sensible and organised way to do this would be to start at the beginning. Which would be the first time I met him.
When I was eleven years old and standing in the middle of King's Cross train station surounded by strangers, with ten minutes to get on to a platform that, as far as I could tell, didn't exist, lost, alone, scared and almost in tears, a boy with messy black hair and blue-grey eyes came up to me and asked if I needed help. He said he noticed that I had an owl, and was wondering if I wanted someone to show me the way to get on to the Hogwarts Express. I was so relieved I started sobbing.
That was years ago, the first of many times James Potter has saved me.
James.
Over the years James has been: friend, confidant, rival, boyfriend (two weeks in third year), tutor, pupil, hated enemy (the time he turned my teeth green and I spent a month plotting revenge), nurse (when I twisted my ankle), co-conspirator, accountant, crisis-counsellor...the list goes on.
I am in love with him.
I only realised this today, so you can imagine why it has been something of a shock to me.
When I think about it, it was a stupid cause for an epiphany.
We had a snowball fight. (James, Sirius, Peter and me.)
My skin had gone blue and everyone was soaked by the time we all simultaneously gave up, because simultaneous yeilding is the only way the rivalry between James and Sirius has ever been settled.
Anyway, when we got back to the common room everyone was taking off their coats and scarfs and settling down by the fire to warm up a little, but I couldn't get my gloves off because my hands were too numb.
James, being the kind and wonderful and generally perfect person he is, saw this and came over to help me. He peeled off the sopping wet gloves, and began to rub my fingers to get some warmth back into them.
And I just suddenly felt winded, like all the strength had been knocked out of me.
It was very surreal. I was standing in the common room, which was the same as it always is, Sirius and Peter lounging by the fire like they always do, with James fussing like my mother like he always does and everything was perfestly normal except for the fact that I was completely different. Because I was suddenly so in love with James potter that I could hardly stand up. And the strangest thing was that I realized I had been all along, ever since that first day in King's Cross train station, and I hadn't even noticed.
Eventually, when James was satisfied that my fingers were warm enough, and probably a little unnerved by my silence, he let go of my hands. I managed to clear my head enough to tell them all I was going to get changed into some dry clothes. Then I bolted up to my dorm, locked the door, sat down on the bed and burst into tears.
That was two hours ago. After I stopped crying I changed, then sat on the floor with my back against the door staring silently at the wall like a crazy person for a long time, before deciding it would be more beneficial to write all this down and see how it looked on paper. Not very good so far.
It is simultaneously a good thing and a bad thing that my dorm mates have all gone home for the holidays. Good thing because if they were here they would think I was a lunatic on account of me staring blankly at the wall for ages. And I don't feel emotionally equipped to answer probing questions yet and put up with Becca talking about her and Sirius's perfect relationship in a sickening manner for hours on end, pretending to use it to demonstrate a point, but really just bragging.
It is a bad thing because this would be a lot easier if Jo was here. She is my best friend and is one of those people with the amazing talent of making everything seem incredibly easy.
Still, Jo is not here, and so I will have to handle this on my own in a confident, competent manner.
Damn. I just started crying again.
Authors Notes.
I read "Bridget Jones's Diary" all of today to try and avoid horrible maths assignment that is due Tuesday. Why do we have to go back to school? Why do holidays have to end? Why? Why?
Anyway, it kind of inspired me to write this (though I bet you already guessed that).
As always, comments are appreciated. I hope you liked it.
Uno.