This is something like Ginny's diary after Snape kills Dumbledore. It gets better. There are Deaths People.

Disclaimer: I wish I did own Harry potter characters, then numbskulls couldn't butcher certain ones reps with horrible fan fictions. Not that all of you do.

I don't know why I didn't see it coming. Even if I lied and told him I sort of expected it, I didn't. Even though it was okay at first, in the beginning, it's not okay now. Nothing is okay anymore. Why is this all catching up with me now? Why didn't I cry when he told me but now I cry like I never have in my life? But I can't let anyone else know. I'm not emotional and moody. One part of me wants to sit and brood all day, but the other knows I have to keep moving... Brooding will get old eventually won't it…?

Then a part of me feels this is for the best. I had to let him go; this was something he had to do. It's better this way. But if I don't want to let him go, how do I let go of the others too? He cares about me, he doesn't want me to get hurt, but why did he let those two go? He cares about them too. He said he wanted them to stay behind too but they wouldn't listen. I wouldn't be able to go anyway. I'm too young. I know that. But I can't stand sitting here and just being, not doing anything, not helping. But what else could I do but sit here...writing out my problems because I'd rather not tell anyone about it. Well now that I think on it, that sort of the point of a diary isn't it?

Why is it that, when you'd like time to pass faster, it seems to go only slower? And when something is going right, and you want it to last longer, it goes faster? I always though that was strange, especially when you've actually told yourself 'I wish this day could last forever' and before you can really stop and appreciate something; it's gone before you know it. And when something goes bad, it seems as though you're just suspended in time, absolutely motionless. I personally think time likes to see us suffer.

It seems as though my childhood went very quickly; it seems like centuries ago I was stealing out of the house when no one was looking, and flying my brothers' brooms in secrecy. But I remember it all so clearly, it seems impossible that I'll be sixteen in about two months time, and stealing their brooms was nearly a decade ago. A lot has happened in a decade; like getting a boyfriend (or boyfriends should I say), almost my whole family joining a secret organization, and watching my older brother walk out on the entire family in a dire situation. Oh yeah and did I forget to mention my disastrous first attempt of a diary, which got me possessed by the evil spirit of Lord Voldemort and nearly killed?

Then again, those things couldn't be the worse that could happen. Oh yeah, there was Snape killing Dumbledore last, and before that, Bellatrix Lestrange killing Sirius. It can't get any worse. But I have a horrible feeling I'm wrong.

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