This bed isn't soft. This bed is lumpy, it smells, not a strong smell, just a hint of decay, like leaves that slowly turn into earth. If you don't kick over the debris than only the tiniest scent lingers, reminding you that the life of the forest is more than just the soaring trees. God wasn't that melodramatic. But in the last three weeks I have been to forty-five funerals, forty-five! Some were staged together, Tonks and Remus were together, that made sense, but they fell on the same day as lavender, and then there was Colin Creevey's funeral just before the service for Severus Snape, and that night was the wake for Fred. I don't even remember most of that night, I know Ron and I fucked like rabbits, I woke up so sore. Come to think of it I am sore now, there has been almost as much fucking as there has been crying, probably more if I am honest about it.
As soon as we realized it was over, oh the relief, the fucking triumph. The god damned choir of angels sang and everyone's hearts lifted. For that day everyone was just glad to be alive. It was when we woke up, that the true nausea of the night's events really took hold. The castle, our castle, our fucking home for the last seven fucking years, was full of holes. Windows shattered, walls missing, entire floors torn to god dammed pieces. And the wounded, so many people, hurt, hurt is the wrong word. Hurt implies a scrape, or just some pain, or something that will mend in time. The ward was full of people torn apart. People that had miraculously survived the worst of what their enemy could throw. Thousands of years of developing spells, thousands of years honing our ability to manipulate the world, thousands of years of creatively learning how to turn lungs inside out, or how to scalp someone still living. To suck the blood out thru their pores, who the fuck thinks this shit up?
And the dead, so many dead. I can't even feel it anymore. When I heard about Fred it tore me to pieces. Tonks and Remus brought me to my knees. Sometimes the vision of Lavenders dead gaze haunts me when I close my eyes. But I couldn't cry at the Creevey funeral. I had nothing left to give for professor Vector. Molly keeps wailing at the burrow, and I can't stand it. I can't stand watching the tears anymore. Harry looks completely broken, like the lights are on but nobody's home. He eats if you tell him to, and Ginny stands beside him at all of the funerals, all of the goddamned funerals. People keep wanting him to speak, and he looks at them lost and confused. He looks at them silent and still, and Ginny rushes to interpret. "What he means is that there just are not words to express our sorrow." If I never have to hear that goddamned line again it will be too soon.
And this mattress still smells, all the fucking magic in the universe and wizards haven't figured out how to make a home that doesn't need upkeep. Do I have to do everything my fucking self? I don't think this writing is helping, I know the counselor was trying to be helpful. Especially after I hit him. I think it is perfectly logical that I am angry, I have an undeniable grievance with the way wizarding society has treated me these last seven years. I hit that other fucking asre hole in the middle of the meeting. I know it was public, and that he is the interim minister, and he was not the root cause of the hardships for the last seven years. But a blanket forgiveness, and no overhaul of how the system was going to work? Somebody needed to hit the man. I made a study of wizard fucking law in my third year and I tell you I never never seen a more corruptible archaic system with built in bigotry and fucking second and third class citizens. You know who makes the fucking laws? The wizengamot, you know how you get on the wizengamot? You inherit a god damned seat from your ancestors. You know who inherits seats, it sure as hell isn't fucking Mud Bloods! You know why the god damned pure blooded houses only have one child? because if your one child and the other single child each have 5 seats, then their only child then has ten "seats" You know why there are only 28 fucking sacred houses? Because these idiots are all in a fucking pissing contest to see who can round up the most seats. There used to be over 400 fucking houses, there are so many goddamned extinct names because these idiots are breeding themselves out of existence. There are 72 sitting members of the wizenmagot for over 400 fucking seats! 434 if they make good on their promise to give Harry, Ron and I a seat, that's how seats were originally bestowed, they were given to god dammed heroes who actually did some sort of good for our world. So if all things remain the same, as the ministry desires, I will have one vote and Malfoy will have 42! 42! like he is life the universe and everything. Just thinking about it makes me want to hit that ferret strait in the nose, again! To feel it crack as if I am shattering his ego, the slimy cockroach.
I might have an anger issue, I might fantasize about inflicting violence, hell I might have hit the fucking minister of goddamned magic on the same fucking day he gave me a medal and declared me a fucking hero. I might have hit the counselor when he suggested I not hit people. I might have beat the ever loving fuck out of Lucius goddamned Malfoy when he came to Severus Snape's funeral. They might of had to pull me off of him! Charlie and Bill being the two bravest souls jumped in and saving the man from my rage. The way I see it I am being merciful, I should have hexed them into oblivion. Never mind that Ginny took my wand and said I could have it back when I could show some restraint. Fuck that pissed me off. I don't know that this is helping. Writing it all down is just reminding me of all the shit and it pisses me off, and it hurts. It hurts to see Harry's blank stare, and it hurts that Ron hardly talks to me, and it hurts that Ginny didn't trust me. It hurts to hear Molly's wails, and it hurts when I think about my mother, I don't even know when I can start to unravel that mess. It fucking hurts to think about what I had to do to them, and the lies I made them believe and the lies I told them and the truth I left off, and how they could never understand the world I entered, or why I wouldn't go to university. Hell they can't even see half of our fucking world, my parents, the two people whom gave me everything, had to take it on faith that I could see A Fucking Pub that was the entrance to a whole god damned world! And I could never even show them my magic, never show them what I learned, how fucking cruel is that? Almost as cruel as sending children to a boarding school for nine months of the year, when they are fucking 11. Eleven? Who the hell decided a boarding school with minimal supervision was a good idea, with floos and apparition and portkeys there is zero reason to not let us go home each night, unless they wanted us separated from our families. Wanted us pulled away from the world so completely they could tell us anything and we would believe it. You are safe here, this world of magic is wonderful, blood prejudice isn't a big deal, it is nothing more than schoolyard bullying. We are the best school for magic in the world! yeah fucking right, uh dada anyone? We had to teach ourselves. A ghost that can't recognize his own students? An alcoholic fraud that likes to torture vulnerable and impressionable students, and don't even get me started on the insecurities of Severus I can't teach Snape. My head hurts just thinking about it. This bed still smells, but I am still here, still hiding away, because no one wants my anger.
No one deserves to know my honest fury. They haven't earned it yet. I have half a mind to leave, take myself and make a new life, a better life. One where they can't hurt me. But that doesn't fix the problem. Next September there will be a muggle born girl discovering this goddamned mess of a world, and fuck if I am going to let them tear her and her parents apart. If I am going to let her be voiceless in our world. If I am going to let her be bullied for her blood. If I am going to stand by and let her wonder of magic be destroyed by a fucking sub-par education that she won't even be able to talk about with her parents. Fuck Fuck Fuck. I can't walk away, not without fixing it.