I never thought it would be so hard. Back when I petrified Neville and we ran head long into our first adventure I never guessed it would last this long or cost me so much. I can't think straight these days. I can't bear too. I look right and there's a picture of Sirius and it hurts. I look left and there's one of my mother's scarves I took because I liked the color …and it hurts. I look up and I see cobwebs and remember that we lost someone yesterday because there weren't any spider legs for the potion we needed …and it hurts. I look down and I see my toes through my shoes and know that I'm not likely to get a new pair because others need the supplies more and the war is taking everything we have …and it hurts.

I've survived two Unforgivables – fought one off and kept my sanity through seven rounds of the other, all back when I was still of use, when I was on the front lines. I still shake when it gets cold. Snape says my nerves may never fully heal. If I get too tired or cold or use to much magic in too small a time I can trigger a flashback and it feels like I'm under the curse again and it can last minutes. I wake up and Draco or Snape will be sitting next to me on the floor trying to hold my head so I don't knock it bloody against the tile or the wood or the carpets. They look at me with pity and don't even complain that I soiled their robes when I lost control sometime at the start of it. They hold me and clean me with magic and wrap me in blankets and bottles of hot water and wait it out with me – often through another episode or two before I finally slip into unconsciousness.

I prefer that pain.

At least the Cruciatus Curse is grounded, it was done on purpose. When I see Molly Weasley hunched over the table sobbing because it's finally happened and one of her children isn't going to come home, no more jokes about his ear-ring or subtle attempts to see his leather clad rear end through his robes, it hurts so much more. And she doesn't do it on purpose. She doesn't mean for her pain to become mine. She knows I share some, that I grieve with her. She doesn't know that I blame myself. I blame myself for every death. It's my war after all. My war, my fault.

I've got these two girls to look after now. I talked Kingsley into getting them wands six months ago and Snape, Draco, and I have taken to teaching them spells. I know they are young but the time may come when they will have to fight. We could be found here in our sheltered headquarters and they may have to fight or die. They may still die.

Michelle still doesn't cry and it's been a year since they came here. She didn't cry when the Order found the family dog and returned it to the girls safe and sound. Not even when Jude fell down the stairs after tripping over Mundegus passed out on the landing and needed two bones spelled back into place. Not when Draco was teaching her to duel and broke her nose on accident. She doesn't cry and she doesn't ask questions. She learns and she plans and she hates.

Jude doesn't understand and thinks it's all a game. She plays with their dog, named Wizard ironically, and learns her spells with all the attention span of her age. She's actually got a fair bit of talent but she's so young it's rather pointless. I doubt she could manage a tickling charm if she had too. She'd freeze.

Michelle would likely take a few down with her. Draco's her constant companion these days. I'm not sure if he's treating her like a daughter or a younger sister or something I don't even want to think about. Wizards don't seem to have the same issues with "age of consent" that muggles do. I should make sure they aren't getting up to anything. I really should. The only time Michelle smiles is when Draco's there. The only time he smiles is with her. She may be a child but she's lost her childhood to this war already. I'll not take whatever happiness she finds away.

I'm supposed to be their mother, I adopted them anyway. Jude and I have that kind of a bond I think. I tuck her in at night and read her bedtime stories. I tickle her awake in the morning and make her cupcakes when there's enough sugar. I save the best food off my plate and give it to her when we run low. She comes to me when she cries.

Michelle isn't like Jude. She doesn't want funny stories or for me to make her stuffed animals dance. She wants me to make the pain go away.

I can't make hers stop when I can't stop my own, though Lord knows I've tried.

Michelle saves the best food on her plate too and gives it to Jude. We both scratch out enough for Wizard because we can't bear to make Jude give him up. We both bandage and stitch up the Order members and block the blood from Jude's teary eyes. We both have stiff backs and hard eyes in the face of death. We're mirrors of each, only I think Michelle is already too far in shadow.

Gods, Professor, I don't know what to do.