(Author's Note: Time for some reviewer thank-yous! Thank you: BekaJWP (you were so right, I'd completely forgotten to paragraph, I have issues with paragraphing), Emprezz Andromeda, duj (actually, no, but you're on the right track...I'll get there eventually, and if you're a psychology geek like I am you may have picked up on it already), procyonblack (you're so nice, thank you so much for reviewing more of my work and please keep reading!), Nemo Returning (keep reading, please, if you're lucky this might actually have a plot someday), Silverthreads (that's definitely what I'm going for) and Toe Nail of York. Please keep reading, all of you, and don't be shy about letting me know what you'd like to see...or if you think I'm totally running this mofo into the ditch. Now, onto the Snapery.)
Ahem. Here, I present my list of Things I Will Not Do in the coming days:
Drink to excess. Actually, I'm amending that: Drink. In the sort of state I'll be in, ad judging by past behavior, I can't trust myself with any sort of spirits.
Act oddly around the students. No ducking off in the middle of classes, no random outbursts, and I'll certainly attempt to grade papers to my fullest ability.
Bitch to Dumbledore. Yes, I've done it before, and I will not do it again. I come off horribly, and he's got more important things to worry about.
A certain activity which really does not merit discussion.
Ignore Draco entirely. I made a promise of sorts to his awful bastard of a father, and I intend to keep it. If he wants to speak with me, I will not push him off and I will try to serve his best interests.
There we go. All I have to do is remember those simple guidelines, and I'm fairly confident that I can deal with this internally. I don't want everybody and their second cousin knowing that I'm off. Am truly dreading the upcoming days...I'm becoming preoccupied with the most awful things. They come in flashes and waves, scenes from my life. Even the Death Eater memories are starting to weave in...and here's another, as I write this. Do I dare to write it? My subconscious is issuing me a challenge...and I shall meet it. Here goes. A failed raid, miserably failed, and...you win. No further. I can't make the memories tangible...and why should I? What will it do except cause me more grief? I can't even bear to put them in a Pensieve. I've only used a Pensieve once once, and how well did that one turn out, now? There was no way Potter could have gotten at the Death Eater ones, anyways—those I'd stored away the second Dumbledore roped me into Occlumency.
I'd only recently decided to store as many of the ones from school and childhood as I could, too...ah, the "dangling incident." Potter saw all there was to see of that one, really—it got broken up by a faculty member before James was able to remove my undergarments. Now that was an awful day. Potter invading the sanctity of my past...I threw him across the room with a strength I seem to constantly forget that I possess when needed. Hopefully, it hurt...no, that's an awful way to think. But it's true, I had clear intentions at the time. I like to think that I'm now above wishing bodily harm on others. And I never, honestly, never wanted to kill with my own hands. "Will I have to kill anyone myself?" I told Lucius. "Only if you want to," he replied. And it was the truth, to an extent. I don't know what I caused...it was selfishness that made me leave. Sure, I was having moral conflicts, blah blah blah...but it was selfishness that got me out of there. It was what they did to me that made me think that maybe The Dark Lord wouldn't take care of his own. Maybe I'd be rejected again. Oh, goody, hip hip hooray, I'm writing about the Death Eaters. Three cheers. What a milestone. Imagine what could happen next. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow the living replica of James Potter, next to a beautiful woman. God...is that what I really want?