Dearest fucking diary,

He's screaming, every night in my head. He screams my name. Hermione thinks it's all nonsense, a lot of silly dreams. But they aren't dreams. They're there, in my head. Because memories don't die. They have to be forgotten. And he's still there. I just can't forget him. I wouldn't want to.

Dearest fucking diary,

Ron's worried about me. He stops me every so often and I look into my brother's tired eyes and he bites his lip and asks, "Are you okay, Gin?"

I nod. What else would I do?

He frowns and presses on. "Are you sure you're okay, Gin?"

It always seems to irritates me, although I can't imagine why....why he can't leave me alone!

I was talking to Harry about it, and how Ron is overprotective, Mum worries to the point of tears, Bill and Charlie both visit and spend that much time lecturing and nagging me, and Harry nodded and said "We're all worried about you. You know that, don't you? That we love you?"

And he smiled. Harry smiling for the purpose of smiling is a beautiful thing to behold, like spring after and icy winter that you thought would never end. It lifts your spirit, and suddenly you can breathe in the oxygen again. He really should smile more often. that's a feeling I'd like to have more of. I'd really like it if he smiled more often.

Dearest fucking diary,

Tom knows. He's worried I'll forget him for Harry. Well, 'worried' isn't the best term. He was mad at me, so mad his voice was shaking, and he lifted his wand and whispered, "Crucio." It hurts...but it hurts even worse when he does it, because I love him.

Oh, I love him...his porcelain face, his sea blue eyes, his cherry lips, his elegant eyebrows, his raven hair, the soft skin on his neck, his flawless, strong hands, the feel of his heartbeat when he's taken his shirt off...I love it when he touches me..even when he's hitting me.

Which he's been doing often lately.

Dearest fucking diary,

I can't believe I never got it before....that Sirius is dead. He's really gone. I never understood through and through until just now the reason behind Harry's lacking gait, and his cold, unresponsive manner. He's a rosebud surviving the spring frost whose sun has just left. Sirius is dead. Good God.

Dearest fucking diary,

Well, cussing at you doesn't do me any good. I'm not really angry, I'm ecstatic.

I really do love it when Tom touches me...I love his hands. So strong. So experienced. Curious. Fearless. Relentless.

When I first found the diary, he never touched me like that. I was young and too innocent, much too innocent. He never—kissed me with such ardor. I could feel him, his passion, his fury, everything that makes him, well, Tom.

But then, fucking diary, he told me how he kissed Hermione and I was lucky he didn't kiss me like that. He said he brought her pain and yet she still cared. She still worried.

He makes it sound as though she worried for me. I know that she's really worried for him. How dare she?! He's mine. I'm his. If he wanted her, he wouldn't've had me set the basilisk on her.

If she bloody comes near him again, I'll rip her throat out.

Hermione took a deep breath, in turmoil. She wanted to drop that diary but she knew she had to continue. Holding back tears and fighting a scream, she looked to the pages once more- but she was cut off.

"You said you didn't have it."

She spun around and halted. How had Lupin managed to come into the room, stand so close to her...? She could have kissed him if she'd wanted to.

She considered it...wait!! What was she thinking?

Remus sighed and sat beside her. Her heart beat faster as the loveseat moved with his added weight. His added weight...

Hermione's eyes darted nervously in their sockets. Her head lifted slightly and her gaze lightly grazed his before falling quickly to the small book in her hands.

"Why did you lie earlier?"

Hermione was still and silent as a stone statue in the depths of winter.

He sighed and moved closer to her, taking her shoulders in his hands. Hermione's thoughts brought forth a phrase of Ginny's...

I love his hands. So strong. So experienced. Curious. Fearless. Relentless.

In his gentle way he forced her eyes to meet his.

"Hermione," he began, in his deep voice. It echoed through her chest and her heart throbbed.

Why? she wondered. Is it because...? He shouldn't be doing this to me!

"Y-yes?" she asked, her voice below a whisper.

"I know you're worried," he said quietly. "We all are. But in trying to save Ginny from the flood, I fear the current will sweep you in."

She wanted to collapse against his chest and sob, clutching at his shirt in desperation. But she didn't dear tempt herself.

"She sometimes screams," Hermione choked on her tears.

"Harry sometimes cries in his sleep," Remus said simply. Hermione's vision blurred; she threw herself into his arms howling and he comforted her as best he could.

Looking up into his eyes, she realised that there was no denying that she couldn't save Ginny.

With a jolt she realised there was no denying her feelings for Re-Lupin, either.

Well, even if it was futile, she'd help Ginny. She'd have to help.

Even if it was inevitable, she'd keep herself from falling in love with Lupin. She mentally kept herself from nipping at his neck.

Well, in either case, she'd try.