Chapter Two: Inside Thoughts
By Darkness-Nightfall
Reflecting back on my life, I think it was wasted. I'm still wasting it, to speak the truth. I'm only seventeen, and I'm wishing my life away. I don't think that's meant to happen.
Everyone thinks I'm a happy, bubbly, intelligent girl with her life under control. But I'm not. Inside I'm a falling empire, like the dying out of the muggle knights in the medieval times.
Sometimes I think I hate myself. Even sitting here, remembering all the fun I had. I have great friends – Maura Fig, Scarlet Wood and Harriet Weasley. But sometimes they aren't enough, no matter how much I love being around them.
But then there's James. He's the only person I feel comfortable talking to- late at night, after everyone's gone to sleep, we'd creep out into the bitter air with our cloaks wrapped tightly around us, hair swirling madly around. Usually we walked barefoot across the dew soaked grass- it was quieter that way.
Next to the lake, under the cover of half a dozen oak trees, was where we'd sit every night. Never did we miss a night out there- I confessed to him like someone would to a priest. And he listened. Not listened, with stupid encouraging words, but truly listened. He listened with his heart, soul and mind. It showed through his eyes.
I'd tell him everything from my bouts of self-hate and depressing thoughts. In turn I'd receive a shoulder to cry on. No one ever knew about our little 'sessions', even though we were gone all night, sometimes coming back just after dawn- so we could watch the sun rise, watch it wash away all our problems, even if just for a precious hour. That hour was what I waited for every day. It meant nothing unless it was coupled with James next to me, holding me for support.
Before I left to meet him every night, I'd make a promise with myself that's never let James Potter see me cry. It usually failed, because once the words came tumbling out, the tears automatically followed. It was a weird process.
James never judged me either. No matter how horrible I was about myself, he never did. And he never told anyone either.
Whatever you're thinking, we never were romantically involved, not until later, anyway. Even at as a crazy sixteen year old, I was uncharacteristically dependant on him.
But no one ever knew how much.