February 17, 1945

Tonight I finally had the opportunity to see Orion for more than just a passing glance in the corridors. I could hear his deep, musical voice along with his booming, infectious laughter and the sound of each twisted my heart with bittersweet feelings. I went to Professor Slughorn's get together knowing that I only had four uninterrupted hours of Orion being in close proximity. Though he sat at the other side of the table, rather than his usual perch beside me, it was enough to cheer me ever so slightly. Orion even managed to send me a discreet, but meaningful smile when everyone else was distracted by Professor Slughorn's passionate, alcohol-fueled rant against the perversion of sugar-free sweets.

Of course Maeve quickly put an end to what little joy I managed to gleam tonight. She was leaning heavily on Orion all night and when she noticed me stealing a tiny glimpse at him, she deliberately kissed the manly stubble decorating his chin. I'd have leaped across the table and beat her face in with the fireplace poker had Orion not jumped from his seat and begged to be dismissed for the evening as he was suddenly stricken with a horrible case of exhaustion. Professor Slughorn was reluctant to grant him a reprieve but Orion was persistent and finally received Professor Slughorn's permission to take leave.

Unfortunately, this made me a target for Maeve. Upset that her sudden, unsolicited kiss had received such an unpleasant response she chose to harass me as a means of expelling some of her rage and hurt feelings. Without any hesitation, as soon as the door closed behind Orion, she turned her canine-looking face toward me and smiled her hideous, crooked-tooth grin. Without any modicum of subtly, she reached into her garish handbag and pulled out a miniature rake. Under the guise of one young lady looking out for another, she presented the rake to me and 'mumbled' loudly enough for everyone to hear the disrespectful words she so willingly heaped upon me.

"I saw this and though of you, Eileen," She mocked, cruelly, "Seeing as you struggle to keep all that hair of yours tame."

The absolute nerve of that sow! It was awful enough that she deigned it appropriate to give me such a 'gift,' but to do so in front of an audience only heightened the offense. She knew that social protocol would dictate I accept the rake with a smile and words of appreciation. And degrading though it was, I attempted to force out a few backhanded compliments. But try as hard as I might, I was so livid I became mute. Even with the fear of Father's wrath hanging over me like a guillotines blade, I stood helplessly silent.

"Go on, Eileen. Take it." Professor Slughorn prompted, a slightly scolding tone in his voice after a long moment had passed.

"It's the perfect gift for you." Madeline Crabbe snickered, sharing in her best mate's pleasure. "I wish Maeve would have brought me a gift."

For the first time in my young life I can honestly say that I lost control of myself and allowed my emotions to control my actions. Having suffered enough the last several days, mostly as a result of her contentious nature, I yanked the rake from her hand and brandished it in her homely face as I delivered a scathing retort.

"If you'd like this bloody rake so much, Madeline, you can have it just as soon as you pry it from Maeve's fat, pasty arse!"

So help me, I would've actually jammed that rake down her throat had Professor Slughorn not drawn his wand on me.

"If you can't behave as a proper lady, Eileen, perhaps you should leave." Maeve hissed, replacing her look of fear with one of contempt.

Nothing would have made me happier than to act out my desire to strangle her. Thankfully I was able to regain a sense of control before I acted on such an impulse. Rather than resort to physical violence, I lightly tossed the rake into her lap with a very contemptuous snort and took my leave as gracefully as I could manage despite my fury.

That troll has always been jealous of my beautiful hair. While I take great care to keep my four feet of locks tame, her mane is scraggly and unruly at best. Given her petty nature, it's not a surprise she pounced on me the one time a stray lock of hair escaped its elaborate updo.

Sadly, I fear Maeve has won. Father will surely kill me when I return home for Easter holiday, and she'll be left without anyone to even mildly challenge her. As it stands, I'm already anticipating the harsh letter that Father is sure to send in prompt response to whatever grossly exaggerated sob story Maeve is sure to deliver his way.

There is no comfort for me to be had this night. Orion and I will never truly be friends again, and punishment most severe is sure to come my way. Usually I would be able to share my sorrows with Anastasia, and she'd comfort me best she could, but I fear I've angered her with my self-imposed isolation. She's understandably taken much offense that I should cast her aside so rudely, making it seem as if I valued Orion far more than her.

If only she understood that there are different types of love in this world! I love her deeply as a sister, truly I do. But the love I hold for Orion is different and I hardly understand it at all. If Anastasia ever feels the pangs of such deep, unrequited love for another, she will understand my actions were understandable, if not justifiable.

February 20, 1945

As punishment for my 'egregious crime' against Maeve, Father has ordered me to remain in the dorms when not in class. He originally planned for my meals to be taken in the dorms as well, delivered by house elf, but Headmaster Dippet quickly intervened on my behalf and forbid the practice on the grounds that it would establish precedent for any student to do the same if they begged their parent's indulgence enough.

Regrettably, this means I cannot hide out in the Room of Requirements any longer as Maeve and a whole other host of spies are eagerly keeping watch on me. I no longer have the pleasure of privacy and solitude that I so crave, and I am going mad as a result. I have never felt so alone in all my life.

March 4, 1945

Today I am finally allowed to be outside my dorm for periods of time other than classes and meals. I was eager to take a stroll about the grounds and breathe fresh air, but it snowed four feet of snow last night and walking paths have yet to be cleared. Sometimes it seems as if the universe is determined to destroy what little happiness I cleave unto. I ponder if I even know what it is to feel true joy.

March 10, 1945

I've now become so advanced in potion's class that Professor Slughorn now has me preparing lesson plans for him in addition to the tutoring services that I must provide for my fellow Slytherins. Despite my duties as longstanding captain of the gobstones team and obligations as prefect I gave in to Headmaster Dippet's pleas and agreed to tutor a few third years in transfiguration. I scarcely have time to study for my O.W.L's atop of all these responsibilities and free time is a precious and rare commodity. If it weren't the immense pressure from many to remain at the top of my year, I'd begin sacrificing a few hours of study time for sleep or leisure.

But my exhaustion means nothing to Professor Slughorn. Despite knowing how overburdened I am he offered my tutoring services to one of Professor Dumbledore's favorite students. Eager to earn the favors of those held in high regard, Professor Slughorn promised Professor Dumbledore that not only was I eager to aid another fellow student but that I was also available to do so during all the few slots of free time I have left.

It is just my luck that Professor Dumbledore gave into Professor Slughorn's pressure to accept me and my services as a gift. Knowing that social convention would dictate Professor Dumbledore return the favor with something of equal or greater value, Professor Slughorn was in high spirits when he informed me I was to tutor Minerva McGonagall in herbology. I don't know much about the girl, but I know she is a year below me and brilliant in her own right. Why she needs academic assistance in any class is beyond me. Especially since I've heard rumors that she is at, or near, the top of her own year. But I could hardly refuse the request, could I?

At least Minerva doesn't conduct herself in the same unflattering manner as the rest of her house. Whereas they are brash and brainless, she is prudent and intelligent. She also seems to be of a serious nature, and I feel that we might be able to get along well enough if the typical house rivalry is set aside. While I refuse to dole out second chances, I will give anyone a first.

March 13, 1945

I held my first tutoring session with Minerva tonight in the library. I was pleasantly surprised by the lion, and could hardly believe someone so brilliant and well-mannered was sorted into Gryffindor house. She'd be much better off in Ravenclaw, where they would appreciate her great wit.

I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the task of tutoring her. Our session bore no semblance at all to that of the dreadful chore of educating fellow students who think that I am beneath them or think me to be evil. Minerva actually appreciated my help, and not even once did she display any sign of contempt that she should have to come to a snake for help.

Not that she needed any assistance whatsoever. No less than ten minutes had elapsed before I took notice of the ease in which she was able to answer the majority of the questions I asked to determine her level of understanding of the subject. Suspicious and curious of her motives for feigning mediocrity during herbology class, I requested that she divulge the reasoning behind her charade.

With a cheeky smirk that any Slytherin would be proud to boast ownership of she leaned in toward me and moved aside a large quantity of hair from the side of my head. Whispering softly, to keep from drawing attention to us, she openly admitted to her slight mischievousness with an air or pride.

Worn down from all the pressures of being at the top of her class and oftentimes worn out from rigorous quidditch practices, she decided to slack off a bit during herbology- careful not to slip below the tiny space between an O and an E. Claiming that it was all the time she had to breathe easily, she confessed that she felt little shame. She did apologize for wasting my time, which I appreciated, and promised to ask Professor Dumbledore to allow her to quit these sessions.

I quickly shot down her suggestions as calmly as I could, fearful of the blame and punishment I would receive should Minerva carry through with her intended course of action. And a more pressing, self-serving reason had me delivering her a passionate reassurance that I did not mind teaching her under false pretenses nor did I consider such session a waste of time. Shrewd as she was, she began to suspect something was amiss despite the utilization of my best acting skills. Thankfully it was time for the library to close and we were promptly dismissed before Minerva could even begin to question my permissive attitude. I rushed away quickly, and left her with a rather puzzled expression on her face.

Hopefully she took my words to heart and won't go asking to be freed from my services. I'm rather lonely and exhausted, and I could use these tutoring lessons to unwind as well. Perhaps I can even convince Minerva to allow me to study my own material whilst she studies hers. I'd even be more than willing to assist her with homework should that unlikely scenario present itself. If we play our cards carefully, we can both receive the best from this situation and take it for all its worth.