Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or places; they have been borrowed for a short time, just for fun.
A/N: Thank you all for taking the time to review. I appreciate it so much! Just so you know, the story is not over until you see "The End", so there is definitely more to come! What – that I can't say. You wouldn't want me to spoil the surprise, now would you? LOL.
Also, my stories are always complete before I begin posting them, so you don't have to wonder if the story will have an ending or not. I HATE stories that never get finished!
June 26
I have been trying very hard to make some sense of what happened between Harry and me. Was it just shagging? I know that it wasn't for me. But what about him? Maybe that was all it was. After all, he figured out a long time ago that I wanted him. Perhaps he saw an opportunity and took it. Would Harry do something like that? Why not? He is a young man, a very passionate young man, at his sexual peak. There's not too many that would pass up an opportunity for a quick shag. I think we all have a tendency to think of him as being this perfect, innocent person. He is neither. He is human like the rest of us, with his strengths and weaknesses. He could very well be capable of doing just that – taking part in a new sexual experience just because.
As I said, it was far more than that for me. I have known for a long time now, but I would never really let myself admit that what I felt for him was more than just lust. I love him. It was those words that I wanted to say; those words that he made me keep to myself. Dear Diary, do you think he knew what I was going to say and that he didn't want to know?
Dear Merlin, why am I torturing myself like this? I should give him a chance. Perhaps I will be hearing from him very soon. I have to hear from him soon. Bloody hell, I really don't know what to think anymore! Claire, get a grip!
July 3
Dear Diary, I am still waiting to hear from him. It is torture for me. The only thing I can think about is that night, that wonderful, amazing, incredible, remarkable, astounding, astonishing, magnificent, mind-blowing night. I close my eyes and it plays over and over in my mind, like a Muggle movie. The images haunt me, stalk me, lay in wait for me whenever my mind wanders. The Gryffindor lion is ready to pounce and I am its prey. How do you forget the image of a god's body when every square inch of its magnificence is indelibly etched in your brain? My mind's eye sees him standing before me once again and I grow heady from the sight. Every fiber of my being wants him; wants to touch and explore and experience him anew. I would gladly throw myself at his feet and worship him.
In the stillness, my mind's ear hears him once again. Merlin! I hear his voice, reedy and breathless with passion. He is gasping, moaning, whimpering, making delicious little sounds of delight. He is calling out my name again as we ride the wave, climbing higher and higher until we explode and come crashing down. His breath hitches and he hisses and pants, desperately trying to fill his lungs.
All of my senses are fully in play as I remember. If I inhale deeply, I swear that I can smell his sweet fragrance. How does he smell? It is uniquely Harry – clean, masculine, musky, intoxicating and comes from no bottle. I can taste him as well: the sweetness of his lips and mouth, the salty skin, the ever so slight bitterness of his essence. My own mouth waters at the thought, hungry for a second helping.
I am being driven mad. These thoughts are consuming me. I am in a state of constant arousal and seek release all too frequently. Relief is only temporary and is never enough. The touch of my own hand is not what I want, not what I crave. It is decidedly empty and unfulfilling. My climaxes are almost effortless; the mere thought of Harry takes me to the brink. I call out his name and long to hear him once again whispering to me, encouraging me. My voice echoes in my room, my cries of passion falling on my ears alone. Harry…please, I need you.
July 7
Dear Diary, I still have not heard from Harry. Every morning I wake up and the first thing that goes through my mind is, 'Today will be the day. I'll have news from him'. Every night I go to my bed despondent. Sleep does not come easily for my head is crammed with thoughts – thoughts of him, thoughts of us together, thoughts of what could be. They are interlaced with worries – is he okay, did he I displease him in some way, is he angry with me, is that it between us? I am fairly certain that I didn't displease him nor did I piss him off. He did enjoy himself that night, no doubt about it. I mean, there is no way a man could fake his responses. A woman, yes; a man, no. When necessary, a woman can put on quite a show. One that would leave her lover on Cloud Nine thinking he was the world's greatest when in fact just the opposite was true. Hell, I've even done it myself once or twice. Trevor was none the wiser. I thought that he and I had something really special going on. If you took all the times Trevor and I made love and rolled them all together into one, it would not come close to what Harry and I had for just one night. Don't get me wrong, I mean Trevor was good enough but I've since had the best. I don't know why, but I always figured that Harry was a virgin. How wrong I was! He is an exquisite lover who has obviously had much experience. Either that or he is a very quick learner. Whoever taught him, thanks-you did a great job. If Harry and I – Merlin, I can barely write this – never make love again, it will always be my ultimate, my summum bonum. It will be the standard by which all others will be measured.
However, I can't help asking myself those questions. I guess that they stem from my insecurities, my deepest, darkest fears. It is very difficult for me not to let myself be swallowed up by these feelings. I could very easily curl up in a corner and let my self wither, consumed by self-loathing and fear. I grew up with a major inferiority complex and I worked very, very hard to overcome it. Yes, I could slip back into my old habits in the blink of an eye. I can not let this happen. Remember what you used to say to yourself. Claire, your self-worth is not dependent on your acceptance by any other human being. This includes Harry Potter. Look at all your good qualities; any man would be happy to have a woman like you.
What if what I have is not what he needs, not what he wants? STOP IT, CLAIRE! Stop, stop, stop…
July 12
Looking back upon what I have written, it would give the impression that all I care about is sex, that I only want Harry back for his magnificent body. I should clarify my feelings. Merlin, yes I want him. My hunger is stronger than ever. What I feel for him is much, much more than that. I love him so much, I can barely stand it. I long for him, all of him: his gentleness, his dry wit, his self-effacing nature, his thoughtfulness, his generosity, his playfulness, his intelligence, his quiet strength. I want him to tease me once again, to make me blush. I want to make him blush as well, to see that pink tinge cross his cheeks, while he grins with just a hint of shyness. Adorable! I want us to share our innermost thoughts, our desires, our fears, our hopes, our secrets. I want us to be so close that we know what the other is thinking, what the other will say, without a single syllable being said. I want it all with him.
I thought I had known love before. I thought I had known passion as well. Until this year, I had been ignorant, misinformed. What I had known was a mere shadow of the real thing, a pale imposter, a specter, a phantom.
July 22
I am 23 years old today. In some ways, I feel as old as Dumbledore. What is going on with Harry, more precisely what isn't going on with him, is wearing me out. I feel like a ton weight is on my shoulders. I am still trying to deal with this, still trying not to let it get to me, but I am afraid I am fighting a losing battle. The emotions are too powerful.
I was surprised with a birthday cake in the staff room this evening. It was very sweet of them all to remember. I tried to be cheerful, but I don't know how convincing I was. I caught Severus staring at me twice. Very strange! He still makes me uneasy at times, even though I know the truth about him. He has the most piercing gaze. It is almost as if he could see right into your soul.
I feel so utterly and completely alone. My heart is full and empty at the same time, a seemingly impossible fact. It is like a rubber balloon. The love that I feel for Harry fills it totally, stretching it to the limit, until I feel my heart will surely burst. At the next instant, the realization that he is not here, he is not sharing the same feelings as I, makes the balloon that is my heart deflate. It lies there, limp and pitiful, waiting to be filled anew.
Happy birthday to me…
July 31
Today is Harry's birthday. He is 18 years old. Yesterday, I went to see Headmaster Dumbledore, hoping he would be able to tell me where I could find Harry. I had a perfect excuse for my inquiry; I wanted to send him a birthday card. This was the truth, well part of it anyway. Of course dear Diary, you know full well there is more to the story than that. Dumbledore doesn't need to know it, however.
Alas, he did not know where Harry was. He told me that Harry had not told him where he was going after graduation. Dumbledore said that he had told him he needed to be alone for awhile and than there were a lot of things he had to come to terms with. Harry had promised the Headmaster he would be in touch, eventually. I was quite disheartened by his answer. Dumbledore looked at me very intently, studying my reaction. I am sure he must suspect something. He gave my arm a little squeeze and said with a smile, 'Don't worry, Claire. Everything will work out for the best.' I thanked him and left. I wonder what he meant. Best for whom – me or Harry?
Happy birthday, Harry. Where ever you are, I hope you are happy.
All my love,
Claire
August 19
In my desperation to find Harry, I went to the nearest Muggle town to use the telephone. Strange objects they are, telephones. I learned how to use them many years ago when I was back in Canada. I didn't know the number, but I quickly found it by using 'Information'. With a shaky hand I dialed the number. A man's voice answered. I asked, 'May I speak to Harry please?' The voice on the other end grew gruff. It barked at me, 'Who is this?' I told him my name and added that I was a friend of Harry's. 'Potter doesn't live here anymore. Don't EVER call this number again.' Before I could ask if he knew where I could find him, he hung up. Bastard. He was so rude to me. I guess I should have expected it after everything Harry told me about his Uncle Vernon. Miserable SOB!
I realized even before I made the call that I was grasping at straws. So nothing has changed. Harry has disappeared from my life. Dear Diary, what ever am I to do? It hurts so much.
August 31
Today is the last day of summer vacation. Thank Merlin, the students will be back tomorrow. I think, well, I hope, that their return will be the best thing for me. I will have something else to occupy my mind. I have had too much time on my hands these past two months. I am ashamed to admit it, but I even let the greenhouses suffer right along with me. Fortunately, I didn't let them go so far that I lost everything. Dumbledore would have had my head on a silver platter for sure. It is a good thing no one really goes there but me. No one will be the wiser about my lapse.
September 7
My second year teaching is well under way. I have to admit it feels good. It was nice to get reacquainted with the students. It is amazing to see how they have grown over the summer! Two months can make a big difference. The first years are very sweet. They seem to be a nice group this year.
It is ridiculous, but I have caught myself scanning the crowds for Harry. I keep expecting him to walk into the greenhouse and give me one of his killer grins and make my heart melt all over again. I know full well that he isn't here and he won't be either. He has graduated from Hogwarts and moved on to bigger and better things and new and exciting people. It is the last part that worries me.
Bloody hell! There I go again. I am jealous over no one. I am jealous and I have no right to be jealous. I have no hold on Harry, except the one that exists in my mind, the one that I want to exist for real. No amount of wishing and praying is going to make it happen.
September 13
The return of the students here at Hogwarts has had the desired effect, but only up to a certain point. School keeps me busy during the day and into the evening, but it is the night, the night where I am lost. He lingers still, ever watching, ever waiting. His memory haunts the twilight moments before I finally find respite. Even in my sleep, he is always there. The dream is never the same; it is always changing, always moving. It is as if I am watching the life I desire play out before my eyes. I stand on the sidelines as an observer. I want to move into the action, but I can't. I am doomed to be the watcher. Although the dreams themselves are always different, the ending is always the same. I waken every morning to the same scenario. Harry is standing before me, smiling, his hand outstretched, calling to me, beckoning me forward. I reach out to grasp his hand and just as my fingers are a fraction of an inch from his, I awake. I start my days with a deep sense of loss and emptiness. This feeling stays with me until late in the day. I know I will see my beloved once again in my dreams. The cycle repeats itself over and over and over…
October 1
Dear Diary, I have such a great sadness in my heart. Tell me, how do I make it go away? What words, if you could speak, would you use to comfort me? If only he would write to me, to tell me that I am not the one he wants. My head tells me that his silence is my answer. It should be clear as day to you Claire, it says to me. Harry does not want a relationship with you. What you experienced together was incredible but that's all there is to it. There is no more to come. It is my heart that is tormenting me. It won't let me listen to what my head is trying to get me to accept. It keeps planting seeds of doubt. Little sprouts of 'what if' keep popping up: what if he does really want you but can't find a way to tell you; what if he hasn't gotten his act together yet; what if he isn't over what happened with Voldemort; what if tomorrow is the day he comes; what if; what if; what if. How do you accept reality when you feel like you will die if you do? I hate this!
October 6
Nothing; there is nothing, no word, no sign, not even a whisper. I have nothing. I am empty. I am lost. I am going through the motions, giving the impression that everything is right when, in fact, everything is wrong. I don't know what to do anymore. How can I continue? Merlin, show me the way. Help me, please, help me!