June twelfth, five o'clock on a Saturday
Always a bridesmaid and all that rubbish. I am so very sentimental right now. My darling Hermione officially became a Weasley today. It was a lovely ceremony and everything was too beautiful for words. I even forgive her for the hideous mixture of lavender and cream cloth that she calls a maid of honor gown. It was an out door wedding, as most in the wizard world are, and took place at sunrise. Maybe it was all the new sensations caused by being awake hours early than normal, but I can honestly say that I have never witnessed a wedding as well put together as this one was.
I stood besides the bride as she promised to love and honor my favorite brother till the day she died and did my best not to weep from happiness. She was everything a bride should be, rosy cheeked and eyes filled with stars. Her gown was simple and yet elegant. Ron looked resplendent in his dress robes and so in love that it was hard not to feel embarrassed by having witnessed the emotions playing between the two of them.
It was a strange affair; the mothers of both the bride and groom had a hand in the planning of the event, and so it was a reflection of the traditions of both cultures. Somehow it all meshed well and went off without a hitch. Dinner was a formal sit down sort and the food was divine. There were speeches and toasts and so much purple that one thought they were looking at the inside of a Barney suite. The first dance followed dinner and the rest of the day was spent showing off moves on the dance floor. About halfway through the reception the bridal pair made their escape, and with them went almost all my enjoyment.
As promised so many months beforehand, Marty was my escort. It was a trial, to say the least. He still has not recovered from the untimely demise of our relationship and could not go ten minuets without making some comment to the effect of what a shame that we will never have a wedding. To make matters worst, Malfoy brought that guttersnipe with him. She took one look at the family and sniffed as if she had smelled something foul. After treating absolutely everyone as if they were last night's leftovers, she started loudly voicing her displeasure to any who had the misfortune to be standing near her.
I cannot tell you how much I detest the woman. Even with her personal habits aside, she cannot string two sensible thought together. Her vanity surpasses all else and she has these irritating little nicknames for anyone she has spent more than an hour around. I have long ago been labeled Vir. She calls Malfoy 'Dra' so I took to simpering 'Co' in the same cloying tones whenever she opened her mouth. The result was a sick parody of the poor man's name.
E.g.: Lizzy Beth's wine glass was empty yet again, so she held it out in front of her and all but purred 'Dra.' Before she could utter another syllable, I cut in with a mocking "Co, could you get us a refill darling?" and bestowed upon him a smile so sweet it should have given him a stomachache. I then fluttered my eyelashes at him, as she is wont to do, and watched as she stewed in her own discontentment.
Am I not evil? Anna et al. laughed nonstop thanks to my constant baiting. I know I should take the high road where that woman is concerned, but there is something inside of me that refuses to let a single thing she does slide. I guess that I am partly to blame for the wicked scene she made of herself because of it.
She was bored, as she had reminded all of us at least ten times, so it was not at all shocking to hear her claim fatigue and try to drag 'Dra darling' away. He was having none of it, and told her to hie herself hence if she could stand the boredom no longer. She twittered and grew flustered, but he seemed determined not to let her carry him off from his Godbrother's wedding. After more then a few whispered exchanges, her face went bright red and she flew into a furry. She ranted and raved while a chagrin Malfoy pulled her from the room. They were back after a short absence to gather their things and then, in a whirl of annoyed glances, made their way to the exit.
With her gone, the party was devoid of all entertainment and all that was left was the depressing ruminations of one Mr. Waspen. He simply must move on! He cannot persist in this fashion, always gloomy and looking as if he was about to weep. He was not made for such a state. From what he was telling me, he has interrogated every girl he could possible think of and none of them had turned out to be his other half. I jokingly told him that maybe he should investigate all the ones he had only caught a glimpse of, but he took the suggestion to heart and I now fear that I have caused an unknown number of women much distress because of it.
There is only one other event of import that happened today. I finally had the honor of meeting Harry's new girl. She is the sweetest little thing, with big purple eyes and long black hair. She reminded me a bit of Cho Chang, but without the tendency towards weeping. I know Ms. Chang had a number of unhealthy surprises in her life, but she really was quite exasperating.
This young woman of his was very pleasing. She is Irish and every word she says has this lovely lilting quality to it. Her name is Emery Rose, but she asked us all to call her Em. She told many assuming stories, and lamented the fact that her last name is 'much prettier' then her first. She was pleasant and well spoken, and I think that Harry just might have latched on to someone of as great a character as his own.
June thirtieth, early afternoon,
What I have to say is really of no consequence and is in all honestly just a bit of fluff. But then, what is the point of a journal if not to record all the nonsense that floats about in one's mind? So here it is. I developed a regrettable fondness for the muggle movie soundtrack after doing an in depth analysis of them my sophomore year and have been collection them ever since. I noticed after my trip to the States that the British form differs greatly from their American counterparts.
Before this I was content with every soundtrack in my possession. Since learning, however, that in the States every song in a movie is on the soundtrack in the same version that is played on film, I cannot go back to my British ones at all. I know it is nothing, but it vexes me to no end that my Bend it Like Beckham soundtrack does not have 'I turn to you' by Jocelyn on it. There, I said my piece.
On to more important matters: I brought my ticket today. I am leaving in early August and cannot wait! All my earlier apprehensions fled in the face of the exciting experience that I am going to have. My only concern is coming back in late October for Anna and Blaise's wedding. I will have to do some fancy footwork to make that all turn out right in the end.
July fifth, night
Absolutely horrid day. Guess who found out about the kissing fest that took place late last May? Lizzy Beth, that nasty piece of work, sent me a howler. It arrived while I was at Anna's with Nat and Lav. The things that woman said would make this parchment smolder. It was beyond all realms of imagination. I hate to admit it, but she made me cry. Anna was furious and sent Blaise to find Malfoy and make him explain himself, while the girls tried to comfort me.
After being called every name in the book by his psychotic girlfriend, I sort of blew up at Malfoy as soon as he arrived. He was very good about it, and took me to the bedroom to compose myself away from prying eyes. He vindicated himself by telling me about the way things had fallen out. It seems he had given Lizzy Beth the boot that morning and she had repeated her insane act from the wedding. He tried to calm her down by telling her that things happen for a reason, but she has adamant in her belief that I was that reason. He defended me to her, which only angered her more, and ended it by pointing out that nothing had ever happened between the two of us other then a kiss. He did not even mention when said kiss had taken place.
He held me and let me cry all over him. He told me that nothing she said was true and that I was ten times the woman she would ever be. He petted my back and was all that is kind and sympathetic, but he did not kiss me. He told me he had realized how good of friends we were and that he did not want to jeopardize that friendship by letting sexual attraction get involved. By the end I think that was I reason I was crying.
July fourteenth, sunrise
Could not sleep tonight. I must have lain in my bed for three or four hours before I gave it up. Even with the lights off and my lavender eye pillow on, I was still filled with energy. So I decided to do a Lord of the Rings marathon. Do not laugh, but I just love those movies. I know that they are nothing like reality, and that elves are more likely to look like my big toe then something as dreamy as Orlando Bloom, but I lose myself in the fantasy of it anyway. Besides, everyone knows I have a weakness for icy blondes.
I finished packing yesterday. I know it is ages before I am to leave, but I just could not help myself. Now I have nothing decent to where since it is all neatly folded and placed in the bottom of my trunks.
The family is gearing up for the return of Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley. We are going to have a picnic lunch and maybe even camp out over night. Mum has all sorts of plans that revolve around showing Hermione all the pictures of all the Weasley weddings that have ever taken place. I cannot wait.
On a side note, can you believe it has been over a year since I started keeping a journal? I am a ripe old twenty-two now and have done and seen much more than I ever anticipated. The sun is rising and the world is starting to wake up, so of course I am ready to get so shuteye. Nighty Night.
July twentieth, late
I know more about Draco's family then he does. Or, at least, I did before today.
All went according to plan with the family picnic. We played a game of quidditch, drank lots of butterbeer, sang campfire songs and made complete asses of ourselves. Every thing was wonderful. Then Mum broke out the wedding albums and things went down the tubes.
All us females sat and cooed over the seemingly endless supply of Weasley wedding pictures. Draco joined us and was soon crowing over Percy's. It is hard to describe the events of my least favorite brother's wedding without laughing. I have never seen him so very fun and carefree, then again, I have also never seen him so drunk. After much rummaging about in the boxes, Mum pulled out her own pictures and passed them around.
That is when the trouble started. Draco caught sight of his Mother and his Uncle in them and started babbling about how odd it was to see his parents sitting peacefully with mine and being happy about it as well. My Dad sat him down with a case of butterbeer and explained about Avery Malfoy. Draco refused to believe him, got down right nasty about it even, but my father called in some more pictures and even a few letters to prove the truth of what he was saying.
At that point Draco completely lost it. He went so far as to tell Mum she was no friend of his mother's before he disappeared. Mum was very upset about it, and the rest of the family was up in arms over it as well. I could not shake the feeling that Draco had been just as hurt by all his nasty words and so I went after him.
I found him alone in that cavern he calls the Master's Chamber staring at a pile of tattered old pictures. He gave me a blank look and handed them over without saying a thing. I flipped through them and was not surprised to see that each one contained a smiling Cissa and Avery. I held them out to him but he told me to read what was on the back. Slightly confused, I did.
There, in a delicate hand I knew at once was his mother's, was the proof that the Malfoy closets were as full of skeletons as any other. The first picture was labeled: Your father and I at Yule Ball our seventh year. I glanced up at Draco, one eyebrow raised, but his face relived nothing. Slowly I went through the stack again, but the writing did not change.
In each picture Avery smiled out and on each picture his lover had named him as the father of her son.
Always a bridesmaid and all that rubbish. I am so very sentimental right now. My darling Hermione officially became a Weasley today. It was a lovely ceremony and everything was too beautiful for words. I even forgive her for the hideous mixture of lavender and cream cloth that she calls a maid of honor gown. It was an out door wedding, as most in the wizard world are, and took place at sunrise. Maybe it was all the new sensations caused by being awake hours early than normal, but I can honestly say that I have never witnessed a wedding as well put together as this one was.
I stood besides the bride as she promised to love and honor my favorite brother till the day she died and did my best not to weep from happiness. She was everything a bride should be, rosy cheeked and eyes filled with stars. Her gown was simple and yet elegant. Ron looked resplendent in his dress robes and so in love that it was hard not to feel embarrassed by having witnessed the emotions playing between the two of them.
It was a strange affair; the mothers of both the bride and groom had a hand in the planning of the event, and so it was a reflection of the traditions of both cultures. Somehow it all meshed well and went off without a hitch. Dinner was a formal sit down sort and the food was divine. There were speeches and toasts and so much purple that one thought they were looking at the inside of a Barney suite. The first dance followed dinner and the rest of the day was spent showing off moves on the dance floor. About halfway through the reception the bridal pair made their escape, and with them went almost all my enjoyment.
As promised so many months beforehand, Marty was my escort. It was a trial, to say the least. He still has not recovered from the untimely demise of our relationship and could not go ten minuets without making some comment to the effect of what a shame that we will never have a wedding. To make matters worst, Malfoy brought that guttersnipe with him. She took one look at the family and sniffed as if she had smelled something foul. After treating absolutely everyone as if they were last night's leftovers, she started loudly voicing her displeasure to any who had the misfortune to be standing near her.
I cannot tell you how much I detest the woman. Even with her personal habits aside, she cannot string two sensible thought together. Her vanity surpasses all else and she has these irritating little nicknames for anyone she has spent more than an hour around. I have long ago been labeled Vir. She calls Malfoy 'Dra' so I took to simpering 'Co' in the same cloying tones whenever she opened her mouth. The result was a sick parody of the poor man's name.
E.g.: Lizzy Beth's wine glass was empty yet again, so she held it out in front of her and all but purred 'Dra.' Before she could utter another syllable, I cut in with a mocking "Co, could you get us a refill darling?" and bestowed upon him a smile so sweet it should have given him a stomachache. I then fluttered my eyelashes at him, as she is wont to do, and watched as she stewed in her own discontentment.
Am I not evil? Anna et al. laughed nonstop thanks to my constant baiting. I know I should take the high road where that woman is concerned, but there is something inside of me that refuses to let a single thing she does slide. I guess that I am partly to blame for the wicked scene she made of herself because of it.
She was bored, as she had reminded all of us at least ten times, so it was not at all shocking to hear her claim fatigue and try to drag 'Dra darling' away. He was having none of it, and told her to hie herself hence if she could stand the boredom no longer. She twittered and grew flustered, but he seemed determined not to let her carry him off from his Godbrother's wedding. After more then a few whispered exchanges, her face went bright red and she flew into a furry. She ranted and raved while a chagrin Malfoy pulled her from the room. They were back after a short absence to gather their things and then, in a whirl of annoyed glances, made their way to the exit.
With her gone, the party was devoid of all entertainment and all that was left was the depressing ruminations of one Mr. Waspen. He simply must move on! He cannot persist in this fashion, always gloomy and looking as if he was about to weep. He was not made for such a state. From what he was telling me, he has interrogated every girl he could possible think of and none of them had turned out to be his other half. I jokingly told him that maybe he should investigate all the ones he had only caught a glimpse of, but he took the suggestion to heart and I now fear that I have caused an unknown number of women much distress because of it.
There is only one other event of import that happened today. I finally had the honor of meeting Harry's new girl. She is the sweetest little thing, with big purple eyes and long black hair. She reminded me a bit of Cho Chang, but without the tendency towards weeping. I know Ms. Chang had a number of unhealthy surprises in her life, but she really was quite exasperating.
This young woman of his was very pleasing. She is Irish and every word she says has this lovely lilting quality to it. Her name is Emery Rose, but she asked us all to call her Em. She told many assuming stories, and lamented the fact that her last name is 'much prettier' then her first. She was pleasant and well spoken, and I think that Harry just might have latched on to someone of as great a character as his own.
June thirtieth, early afternoon,
What I have to say is really of no consequence and is in all honestly just a bit of fluff. But then, what is the point of a journal if not to record all the nonsense that floats about in one's mind? So here it is. I developed a regrettable fondness for the muggle movie soundtrack after doing an in depth analysis of them my sophomore year and have been collection them ever since. I noticed after my trip to the States that the British form differs greatly from their American counterparts.
Before this I was content with every soundtrack in my possession. Since learning, however, that in the States every song in a movie is on the soundtrack in the same version that is played on film, I cannot go back to my British ones at all. I know it is nothing, but it vexes me to no end that my Bend it Like Beckham soundtrack does not have 'I turn to you' by Jocelyn on it. There, I said my piece.
On to more important matters: I brought my ticket today. I am leaving in early August and cannot wait! All my earlier apprehensions fled in the face of the exciting experience that I am going to have. My only concern is coming back in late October for Anna and Blaise's wedding. I will have to do some fancy footwork to make that all turn out right in the end.
July fifth, night
Absolutely horrid day. Guess who found out about the kissing fest that took place late last May? Lizzy Beth, that nasty piece of work, sent me a howler. It arrived while I was at Anna's with Nat and Lav. The things that woman said would make this parchment smolder. It was beyond all realms of imagination. I hate to admit it, but she made me cry. Anna was furious and sent Blaise to find Malfoy and make him explain himself, while the girls tried to comfort me.
After being called every name in the book by his psychotic girlfriend, I sort of blew up at Malfoy as soon as he arrived. He was very good about it, and took me to the bedroom to compose myself away from prying eyes. He vindicated himself by telling me about the way things had fallen out. It seems he had given Lizzy Beth the boot that morning and she had repeated her insane act from the wedding. He tried to calm her down by telling her that things happen for a reason, but she has adamant in her belief that I was that reason. He defended me to her, which only angered her more, and ended it by pointing out that nothing had ever happened between the two of us other then a kiss. He did not even mention when said kiss had taken place.
He held me and let me cry all over him. He told me that nothing she said was true and that I was ten times the woman she would ever be. He petted my back and was all that is kind and sympathetic, but he did not kiss me. He told me he had realized how good of friends we were and that he did not want to jeopardize that friendship by letting sexual attraction get involved. By the end I think that was I reason I was crying.
July fourteenth, sunrise
Could not sleep tonight. I must have lain in my bed for three or four hours before I gave it up. Even with the lights off and my lavender eye pillow on, I was still filled with energy. So I decided to do a Lord of the Rings marathon. Do not laugh, but I just love those movies. I know that they are nothing like reality, and that elves are more likely to look like my big toe then something as dreamy as Orlando Bloom, but I lose myself in the fantasy of it anyway. Besides, everyone knows I have a weakness for icy blondes.
I finished packing yesterday. I know it is ages before I am to leave, but I just could not help myself. Now I have nothing decent to where since it is all neatly folded and placed in the bottom of my trunks.
The family is gearing up for the return of Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley. We are going to have a picnic lunch and maybe even camp out over night. Mum has all sorts of plans that revolve around showing Hermione all the pictures of all the Weasley weddings that have ever taken place. I cannot wait.
On a side note, can you believe it has been over a year since I started keeping a journal? I am a ripe old twenty-two now and have done and seen much more than I ever anticipated. The sun is rising and the world is starting to wake up, so of course I am ready to get so shuteye. Nighty Night.
July twentieth, late
I know more about Draco's family then he does. Or, at least, I did before today.
All went according to plan with the family picnic. We played a game of quidditch, drank lots of butterbeer, sang campfire songs and made complete asses of ourselves. Every thing was wonderful. Then Mum broke out the wedding albums and things went down the tubes.
All us females sat and cooed over the seemingly endless supply of Weasley wedding pictures. Draco joined us and was soon crowing over Percy's. It is hard to describe the events of my least favorite brother's wedding without laughing. I have never seen him so very fun and carefree, then again, I have also never seen him so drunk. After much rummaging about in the boxes, Mum pulled out her own pictures and passed them around.
That is when the trouble started. Draco caught sight of his Mother and his Uncle in them and started babbling about how odd it was to see his parents sitting peacefully with mine and being happy about it as well. My Dad sat him down with a case of butterbeer and explained about Avery Malfoy. Draco refused to believe him, got down right nasty about it even, but my father called in some more pictures and even a few letters to prove the truth of what he was saying.
At that point Draco completely lost it. He went so far as to tell Mum she was no friend of his mother's before he disappeared. Mum was very upset about it, and the rest of the family was up in arms over it as well. I could not shake the feeling that Draco had been just as hurt by all his nasty words and so I went after him.
I found him alone in that cavern he calls the Master's Chamber staring at a pile of tattered old pictures. He gave me a blank look and handed them over without saying a thing. I flipped through them and was not surprised to see that each one contained a smiling Cissa and Avery. I held them out to him but he told me to read what was on the back. Slightly confused, I did.
There, in a delicate hand I knew at once was his mother's, was the proof that the Malfoy closets were as full of skeletons as any other. The first picture was labeled: Your father and I at Yule Ball our seventh year. I glanced up at Draco, one eyebrow raised, but his face relived nothing. Slowly I went through the stack again, but the writing did not change.
In each picture Avery smiled out and on each picture his lover had named him as the father of her son.