Warning: Hermione's mental state really deteriorates in this chapter. Mostly depression, some alcohol abuse, etc.

I stared at myself in the mirror, examining my gaunt face and haunted eyes. Lack of sleep and nutrition were beginning to take their toll on me. It had been almost three months since I'd erased Draco's memory, and I was still fixated on his absence. No matter how I tried to fill my time, he was always in the forefront of my mind. I couldn't even imagine a future at this point.

Every morning, I peeled myself out of bed after too little sleep and went through my routine. I'd take a shower, do my hair and makeup, and get dressed. I tried not to focus on how I was magically altering some of my clothing, choosing the drabbest, least noticeable pieces possible. I could see that I was slowly wasting away, but I didn't let myself fully acknowledge it. I was eating and sleeping as much as I could.

On really bad nights, I would drink wine to calm myself down and fall into a drunken slumber. I'd started brewing a hangover remedy to have on hand, but I wouldn't acknowledge that as a problem either; I was only twenty-six. It was perfectly acceptable to drink at that age and need a hangover potion in the morning. I even shared my wine with Blaise or Ginny from time to time. Ron and Harry were too busy with their families to come and spend time with me.

I drank way too much coffee and, when I ate, it was usually just something light. I couldn't stomach heavy food, so I stuck to fruits and salads unless Blaise was there to make me eat something more substantial.

When I walked into the office the Friday before Christmas, I found a take-away latte and a slice of coffee cake on my desk. Harry winked at me from his office, and I smiled back. He started walking over to talk to me, and I got nervous.

He's going to lecture me about how I'm not eating or sleeping enough. He's going to tell me it's time to just bloody get over it already. He's going to tell me that Pansy won't let me join them for Christmas because of what I've done to Draco. He's realized that I'm not the same person I once was, and he doesn't want to be friends anymore. He's finally going to stop including me in everything.

However, when Harry stepped through my door, he did nothing of the sort, and that made me feel like shite. How could I just believe the worst of my best friend? Why would I ever think that Harry would abandon me? He never had, and he never would, just like I would never abandon him. He simply verified the Christmas dinner time with me, and he told me that Molly had been asking if I was going to the Burrow or not on Christmas Eve. I told Harry I'd owl her, and he nodded.

"You aren't feeling up to going there this year, huh?" he asked, sympathy in his eyes.

"Not at all," I admitted. "It somehow makes me feel even more lonely. I mean, they're all married and have families."

"Ginny doesn't have any of that yet, Hermione. It's not like you're the only one who is single," Harry commented.

"I know that. I just... I can't this year, Harry. I want to be alone. I want to reflect on what happened. Last year, I spent Christmas Eve with Draco in France. I'm going to be doing nothing but wishing I was there again."

"That's not healthy, Hermione. You should be keeping yourself busy and surrounded by people who love you."

At that moment, Blaise sauntered up to my open door. "She will be, Potter. I'm going to whisk her away to Italy for the night. We can have wine and delicious food and celebrate together."

I was ready to leap into his arms. He had just saved me from a huge guilt trip, courtesy of Harry James Potter. I hoped he didn't actually expect me to go to Italy, but I would if I absolutely had to. Blaise's company was certainly preferable to a horde of happy Weasleys with their perfect marriages and children. Without even trying, they all made me feel inadequate, and I knew Molly would look from Ginny to me with disappointment. We were the two daughters and the only single ones left. We were both married to our careers and didn't seem to care about much else. Once I said I wasn't dating anyone, she would lecture me about the importance of having a social life and leaving the office at a reasonable hour. I wouldn't be able to handle that this year.

"Are you really going with him?" Harry asked, trying to make sure I wasn't going to spend the night alone.

"I guess I am, though it's a relatively new plan for me," I answered. "Where in Italy are you taking me, Blaise?"

"We're obviously heading to Venice! It's lovely at Christmas, and I booked us a suite at a hotel right on the canal. You'll adore it," Blaise raved.

I couldn't deny that it sounded like my best option at the moment, and I needed to say I was doing something otherwise I would be dragged unceremoniously to the Burrow. If I stayed home, I'd just be pining for my lost lover and that certainly wouldn't be good for me.

"So, you're going to abandon Christmas with the Weasleys to stay in a hotel with him?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with judgment.

Blaise laughed. "We're not going to fuck, Potter. We're friends. I know how she spent Christmas Eve last year, and I'm getting her the hell out of here so she doesn't spend her night alone. She doesn't want to be around tons of happily married people. Don't you get that?"

Backpedaling, Harry stammered, "I-I didn't m-mean—"

"You did, Harry," I began. "I know you weren't being malicious, but you were going to be upset if Blaise and I planned to spend the night together sexually."

Blaise smirked, making the atmosphere less tense. "I know what she's been through, Potter — more than anyone else does — and I think I know what's best for her right now."

Harry looked resentful, not wanting to admit that anyone knew me better than he did. But Blaise was right; he had been there from the start of my relationship with Draco until the very end. He had been my only constant. Between Pansy and being a new parent, Harry had been so wrapped up in his new life that I didn't want to bother him with my moral dilemmas or newfound love for Draco. On top of that, I didn't want Pansy to know about the affair — she wasn't the type to stay silent and likely would've confronted Draco about it. She was also friends with Astoria's sister, Daphne. And I refused to ask Harry to hide something like that from his wife.

"It's not personal, Potter. I just ended up being there for both Draco and Hermione through their whole affair. Wrong or right, they both knew they could count on me to keep their secret. I'll make sure she's back in time for dinner at your house on Sunday," Blaise said, dismissing Harry.

Harry looked at me, trying to determine if I was upset or didn't want Blaise whisking me away, but he eventually nodded and left my office. Zabini closed the door and leaned against it.

"You know we're actually going, right, Granger?"

I nodded, knowing I really had no choice at all. Now that he had involved Harry, I had to agree. It had been a sneak attack to tie my hands.

Venice was lovely, and Blaise was able to take my mind off of Draco for a while. We walked the narrow streets taking in the lovely Christmas decorations and observing carolers. It was cold so we had cast warming charms over ourselves. The Rialto Bridge was lit beautifully and there were masses being performed in all the old churches. Earlier in the day, I had spent a small fortune on gifts for Harry and the Weasleys. At one point, I was examining a pair of expensive Italian leather shoes for Draco, and then it hit me.

I wasn't going to be buying Draco gifts. Ever again.

Draco was gone.

I was alone again. Even if Blaise had pitied me and taken me to Venice for Christmas Eve, I was alone. I didn't have anyone who loved me, who longed for my touch. I didn't have anyone to go home to or share the holiday with.

My mood had soured and Blaise noticed, immediately sweeping me into a small restaurant, where he ordered an expensive bottle of wine and a meal for us to share. He wasn't trying to make me eat ungodly portions of rich food, thank Merlin for small favors.

When the time neared half past nine, I told Blaise I was tired and he escorted me back to our hotel. I changed into the least sexy pyjamas ever and Blaise stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. Neither of us looked at the other in a sexual manner. After he gestured to the bed, I climbed in on the right side. Spooning around me, he wrapped me in his arms and I relished the contact. Out of all the things I'd been missing since Draco's Obliviation, simple, everyday human touch was the worst. I went days without touching another person. It was incredibly lonely.

"You're not alone, Hermione. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," he whispered against my hair.

"I know, Blaise. Thank you for this. I know you probably had other things you could've done."

"Not really, Tesoro. My mother is off getting hitched again, and I don't have a girlfriend, either. We can keep each other company whenever you want."

With that, I drifted off to sleep quicker than I had in the past two months, feeling safe and warm in Blaise's arms.

When Blaise dropped me off at home on Christmas Day, I was devastated. I had hours to kill before heading to Grimmauld Place, and there was nothing waiting at home for me — no presents, no people, no pets. Absolutely nothing. Last year, when I'd gotten back from France, there were little gifts all over the house for me to discover. Draco felt guilty about leaving me alone on Christmas, so he tried to make up for it by overdoing the presents.

Knowing it was likely a huge mistake, I made my way to the locked trunk containing his memories and the notes and trinkets I'd put away for safekeeping. I stared at it for a moment, understanding that my mental state was fragile, that I likely wouldn't be able to handle reading the notes or replaying the memories.

But I couldn't help myself. I unlocked it, ignoring my reservations and the little voice inside my head screaming that I was making a mistake. When I opened the lid, the silver shimmer of the memories completely transfixed me — I couldn't look away. My Draco was in there, in all of those memories. I could see him again. I could see us together again. After a moment, my hand moved towards the letters bound with a red ribbon, removing them from the trunk and untying the knot to free them. Leafing through the sheets of parchment, I finally came across the one I was looking for.

Happy Christmas, my love.

You know I'd do anything, give anything, to be spending today with you instead of sitting in the Manor with my parents and Astoria. It breaks my heart to think of you in our little house alone until you depart for Potter's house. So, after you fell asleep last night, I popped home (and yes, our little house is my home) and hid a few things for you. Your task is to find them — without magic!

There are nine gifts in all, one for each month since the first time we were together. I know you said you didn't want me to overdo it, but I am who I am, Granger, and I won't apologise for that.

There is another note with each gift. Good luck, and I hope you know that I am missing you like crazy. I'll be counting the minutes until I'm back here with you.

I love you so much. More than anything. I always will.

DM

His note prompted me to start reliving the mad search for his gifts, the little trinkets and over the top ones he'd hidden everywhere. A new lingerie set in the rumpled sheets, a book nestled on one of my bookshelves, glass otter and dragon figurines representing our Patronuses on my mantle.

A diamond pendant so large that I'd never been able to wear it out while in England accompanied a new red dress in my wardrobe, both items magically secured to a hanger.

We're going to Paris for Valentine's Day. This is coming with you, and I can't wait to see you wearing it… and then wearing nothing at all but the necklace.

In the bathroom, I'd found an unopened bottle of the perfume he loved so much, a note magically inserted behind the cellophane wrapping on the box.

I will forever associate this scent with you. Whenever you pass me in the office, I can smell it and it makes me long to nuzzle my face against your neck, to run my tongue along your throat and taste you.

A flash of heat ran through me, thinking about his words, about how many times he'd actually done those things to me in the office. Even though I was filled with sadness, his words made me remember — remember the feel of his mouth on my neck, his hands roaming my body, the words he would whisper in my ear — and I craved him, his touch, like a drug.

I had known this was a mistake, but I hadn't been expecting the fire racing through my veins, the raw want that filled me. It had been absent for almost three months, and the intensity with which it hit me was shocking. I needed to cool it, to tamp it down.

I needed to be numb again.

I immediately opened a bottle of firewhisky, taking a shot as quickly as I could. It burned its way down my throat, and I welcomed the pain and warmth. One shot became two, and two shots became four, four became eight in the blink of an eye, and then I was drunk. Really drunk, and the want was still there, my mind swimming with both memories and fantasies starring Draco. His face, his body, his voice… they were all there, playing behind my eyelids and torturing me.

I sat on the floor in front of my fireplace and conjured my favourite blue flames, forcing myself to open my eyes and watch them dance and cast light as I started to cry for what I'd lost, for everything I'd given up in the past eight years. My parents, the Weasleys, Draco… my dreams of working in a capacity that would make a difference for magical creatures. I felt so defeated, like there was nothing left for me in Britain whatsoever.

Like there was nothing worth suffering through this existence for.

My last thought before I blacked out was: I wonder if Harry would come for me if I didn't turn up at Grimmauld Place.

The answer to that question was a resounding yes. Harry did show up, and he found me on the floor, completely blacked out and crying my eyeballs out. I had vomited at some point, though it was mainly just liquid. He turned around and used the Floo to call Pansy.

"She drank herself half to death, Pansy! I'm taking her to St. Mungo's," he shouted.

"Harry, no," I groaned. "I'm fine. I don't need to go to Mungo's."

"You're not fine, Hermione! You haven't been fine in nearly three bloody months! You weigh at least a stone less than you did in October, you have almost no fingernails, and you're passed out in your own sick. What are you doing to yourself?!"

I didn't answer. Everything he had said was true; there wasn't a sense in disputing it. I stared at him, watching his pained expression as he muttered a half-hearted Stupefy. Everything went blissfully black again.

When I woke up, I was magically confined to a room in St. Mungo's. There was something akin to a magical whiteboard across from my bed, and I saw that I was in room 343 of the Mental Health ward of the hospital. My Healer was Penelope Clearwater.

I internally berated both myself and Harry. I didn't need to be here. I was just going through a rough time. I didn't need professional help. I would pull myself out of it soon. I could start eating and sleeping properly whenever I wanted to. I wasn't depressed or suicidal. I just missed Draco.

There must have been a monitoring charm on me because, a few minutes after I had woken, Penelope Clearwater entered the room. She looked at me with sympathy, and I wanted to sneer at her. However, I kept my cool. She was a Ravenclaw. Logical. I could be logical. She'd see I was fine and she'd let me go home. I could still make it to Christmas at Harry's house for James.

"Hello, Ms. Granger. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Penelope Clearwater," she greeted warmly.

We were Petrified by a fucking basilisk together. Of course I remember you, you twit. How could I ever forget you?

"I do remember you. It's nice to see you again. What shall I call you?"

"Healer Clearwater is fine," she replied. "Harry Potter brought you in, Stunned and unresponsive, saying he'd found you drunk and passed out. He's worried for your safety."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is. I've been through a lot lately, and I'll admit I'm not quite myself at the moment, but I don't think there is anything wrong with me. Anyone in my situation would be struggling a bit."

"And what situation are you in? I obviously don't know," she asked, her tone gentle.

I groaned. "Do we have to do this right now? I could use something for my head, and I'm exhausted."

"I'll certainly give you something for your head, but we do need to talk. You're not going to be leaving the hospital until I clear you," Penelope stated.

Rolling over, I said, "I'm off from work all week anyway. Let me get some rest and maybe I'll feel better in the morning."

I heard her exit the room, and a few minutes later, a pain relief potion appeared on the small side table. Eagerly swallowing it, I chased the taste away with some water and curled up on the hospital bed. I tried to fall asleep, but I just couldn't. My mind was racing and, an hour later, Healer Clearwater came back in.

"You're not sleeping. I thought you were exhausted?"

I sat up in bed and folded my arms across my chest. "I am exhausted, but I can't sleep. This is how I've been since the beginning of October. Maybe even a bit longer than that."

"And you're not eating well, either. My diagnostic showed malnutrition, and your chart shows that you've lost nearly a stone. You were already a slender woman. What's going on, Hermione?" Penelope asked, likely hoping that I'd cave and tell her something. Anything.

"I went through a bad break up. I'm just stressed and upset. It's only been a couple of months," I reasoned. "I'm sure I'll be good as new in a few months."

She eyed me skeptically, examining my facial expressions. "And how often are you drinking to excess?"

"This has been the only time!" I snarled at her, losing my cool for a moment.

She shook her head. "You're lying, Ms. Granger. I know you're lying. I bet there have been times where you've had wine or firewhisky to help you fall asleep. Am I right?"

Was she using Legilimency on me?

"Yes, but only when I reach a point of unbearable exhaustion," I admitted. "I really can't sleep more than a few hours a night right now."

"That's not normal break up stress nearly three months later."

How many women do you know that have erased themselves from their boyfriend's memories?

"Well, I've always been extraordinary," I quipped.

With a sigh, she wrote something on my chart. A moment later, a vial of Dreamless Sleep appeared on my side table where the pain relief had been. "Get some rest and we'll try to talk again when you're feeling more cooperative. Just keep in mind that you won't be going anywhere until I sign off on it and say it's okay."

"Can't bloody wait," I muttered before swallowing the potion and drifting off to sleep.

I was not permitted to leave the hospital right away. I was surly and uncooperative. I wouldn't eat, and I only slept when they gave me Dreamless Sleep. I wouldn't talk to the Healers about my feelings or tell them what had put me in such a state. They tried flattery, telling me that I was bright and of course they understood that I had finally cracked under the pressure, under everyone's high expectations of me. They tried playing on my sympathy, telling me that Harry and Ron were sitting in the waiting room in shifts, wanting to be there for me when I was released.

They tried everything and, despite how much I wanted to go home, I didn't want to spill my guts to them. I couldn't. How was I supposed to convey what was going on in my head without telling the truth?

On the fifth day, Blaise showed up and demanded to see me. Since nothing else had worked, they let him into my room.

"Tesoro, are you fucking kidding me?" he hissed. "I drop you off at home, you get completely pissed, and now you won't talk to anyone? Won't tell them anything to get out of here?"

"What do you want me to say, Blaise?! I can't tell them the truth! I can't tell them why I'm broken up over this whole situation!"

He sighed and flopped down into the chair next to me. "I know you can't tell them everything. But you could tell them some things. Maybe it will help. You're not talking to anyone about any of this, Hermione, and I'm sure it's eating you up inside."

It was eating me up inside. It was twisting my stomach into knots and making me sick. All things Draco played on a loop in my mind when I wasn't working, and he occasionally interrupted my thoughts there, as well. How many times had he sat in the chair across from me, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, just smirking at me while I wrote out case notes? How many times had he convinced me to throw up a Silencing Charm and bend over my desk? Why hadn't I worked harder to keep our relationship strictly professional?

"I don't know how to bloody talk about it!" I admitted. "What will they think of me, Blaise? What will my Healer, a bloody brilliant Ravenclaw, think about me sleeping with a married man for over a year?!"

"You may be a war heroine, Hermione, but you're still human. You're not a goddess. You're not expected to be perfect all the time," he answered, looking me straight in the eyes. "You are harder on yourself than anyone else is, Tesoro. Potter and Weasley are probably next in line for your harshest critics."

I laughed, knowing he was right. "And where does Rita Skeeter fall? Or maybe Lucius Malfoy?"

"Numbers four and five, respectively," he replied with a smirk, continuing the joke. "Talk to me now and we can work out what to tell the Healers. Something will be better than nothing."

Shakily, I accepted his suggestion and we spent the next hour going over what I'd tell Healer Clearwater. Blaise promised he'd come back the following night after work to help me calm down after the conversation, and he also said he'd tell Harry and Ron to give me a little bit of space while I was in the hospital. He knew I was uncomfortable with them spending all of their time waiting for me. They both had children and wives, and I was sure Pansy and Luna were annoyed with them for sitting in a waiting room while I simply ignored them.

Blaise kissed my forehead and departed, telling me that I would be okay and he would be with me through it all. Through all the months, he hadn't judged me or made me feel worse, so I believed him wholeheartedly. He had been my rock, my safe place when everything was too much to bear.

Blaise Zabini had saved me, time and time again, and I often wondered why he bothered to. I did nothing but complicate his simple, happy life.

I didn't deserve him.

When Healer Clearwater entered my room the next day, she immediately asked me about Blaise and why I was willing to talk to him.

"Because Blaise already knows my story. He knows why I'm upset and how I ended up here. He was the last one to see me on Christmas," I responded.

She nodded and made a note on her clipboard. "And he's what to you? A friend?"

"Definitely. He's a close friend. We've been spending time together for almost two years now. We work together, and we share some of the same interests," I explained.

"Good. He told me that you were ready to talk today. Are you still feeling ready to explain how you're feeling? How you ended up here?" she questioned.

"Yes. I'll tell you most of the story, the parts of it that won't give anything away, at least," I replied.

And then I gave her the long version of half-truths. I'd had a one-night stand with someone who happened to be getting married. When said person got back from their honeymoon and started seeing me around, he'd pursued me relentlessly. I'd managed to keep my distance for a month before I gave in. Once I gave in, I felt guilty, but I continued the affair. We fell in love. He took me on trips and showered me with gifts and we acted like his wife just didn't exist. He lived in my house about half the time. We read the same books and enjoyed a lot of the same things. We both worked at the Ministry. His parents would never approve of me. His wife had gotten pregnant on their first anniversary, and I'd had to end things.

"Well, that's certainly a lot, and not quite what I was expecting," Healer Clearwater said after listening to my story without interrupting.

I glared at her. "Sorry that I didn't quite live up to your expectations."

"Oh, you misunderstand me! I was assuming it was a more mundane relationship, not something secret and somewhat scandalous. Are you having trouble coming to terms with your actions?"

"No. I felt guilty from time to time while the relationship was going on, but I don't feel that way now. I feel slightly guilty that I ended it in such a cowardly way. I just stopped answering him and I'm doing all I can to avoid him. His focus needs to be on his family, so we never talked about it properly," I admitted, again using a half-truth.

She bit her lip, seemingly deep in thought. "Do you think that's part of your problem? You didn't get proper closure with him?"

I shrugged. Without telling her the whole story, I couldn't tell her that there was no way for me to get closure.

"Are you afraid he'll find his way back into your life?"

"Not at all. I never had a talk with him, but I do know he's gotten the message now. I haven't heard from him since October," I answered.

"I want you to try something, Hermione. I think you should start a journal and address your entries to him, to your ex-boyfriend. Just from this conversation alone, I can tell you have a lot to say to him and you're not willing to do it in person. You've always been a fan of the written word, and sometimes, it's just easier to write it all out rather than talk about it," Healer Clearwater suggested.

A journal? A fucking journal? This was the kind of advice she had for me after I had spilled my guts for an hour?

I held back my vitriol and played along. "Sure. I can do that. Do you have a notebook and a quill?"

"I'll have one sent to you. There is one other thing we really need to discuss," she stated.

I gestured for her to continue.

"You need to start keeping track of what you're eating, as well. You're far too thin and need to make sure you're eating enough everyday. I don't want you to continue losing weight. It's dangerous," she lectured.

"I… I'll try," I whispered. "I'm not consciously skipping meals. My stomach is constantly in knots. I want to eat, but sometimes I just can't."

Penelope idly tapped her quill on her clipboard. "If you want to get out of here, Hermione, you need to prove that you can take care of yourself. You need to eat and try to work through your problems. I'd also like to see you sleep through a night before you're released."

"What? I just bloody talked to you like you wanted me to! I still can't leave?" I snapped, taken aback that I was still being held hostage.

"Not yet, no. We look at situations like yours very carefully, Hermione. You've been through a lot in the past seven years. I read up on you, you know. I know that you Obliviated your parents, fell into a relationship with Ron Weasley, lost that relationship, buried yourself in your work, and went out a lot. Now, you're never seen out, and I'm guessing that was because of this mysterious married man, but you're endangering yourself. You live alone. I don't want to let you go home and have something bad happen to you."

"How dare you act like you know me! Yes, I Obliviated my parents and things didn't work out with Ron. That doesn't mean that I have no one in my life. You've seen Harry and Ron and Blaise all come here to check on me. Do you think that will stop once I go home?" I argued.

"I'm sure it won't, unless you cut them out like you did with your boyfriend. You don't seem well, Hermione, and it scares me that you're not willing to ask for help in these situations," she answered. "Give me another week. Get yourself on a proper eating and sleeping schedule here. Start journaling and accepting visits from your friends, and we'll talk again."

Knowing I didn't really have a choice in the matter, I agreed. What was another week? I knew I had the vacation time, and Harry would make sure our boss approved it. After all, I was hospitalized.

I sat at the small desk in my hospital room, staring at the blank page in front of me. It was mocking me. I had always been able to find the right words, but nothing was coming to mind today.

If Draco were here now, right this very second, what would you want to say to him?

I picked up the quill and dipped it in the violet ink they had given me. I held it over the page for a moment, and then I began writing.

DM-

I really don't know what to say to you. It's been just about three months since I Obliviated you, and I'm a wreck. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I've landed myself in St. Mungo's. I've lost so much weight and your eyes haunt my dreams. I stared into them for so long while I was removing your memories… and I can't stop seeing them whenever I close my eyes. It's like they're burned into the back of my eyelids. Your father owled me to say that you're doing well, that I'd managed to do what I'd set out to do. You don't remember me and you love Astoria.

As much as it hurt to read those words, I was happy that I hadn't really harmed you. As you know, Obliviation is dangerous. I'm sure the memories I created for you aren't perfect, but I hope that you believe them and that Astoria is making you as happy as I once did. If she is, all of my hard work was completely worth it. I want you to be happy in your new life with Astoria and the baby.

I could live with us sneaking around when it was just Astoria we were hurting. I could rationalize that in my head. But your child is innocent, Draco, and he or she deserves to have a complete family. The baby deserves a chance at the happy childhood that we missed out on, and I'm sure you and Astoria will provide him or her with the best possible life. I couldn't stand in the way of that.

If you knew, I hope you would understand why I did what I did, and also why I didn't talk to you about it first. I couldn't. I just couldn't look you in the eyes and suggest ending our relationship by making it seem like it had never happened. I couldn't suggest altering your memories so that you believed your feelings for me were actually for Astoria. I know you would've fought me every step of the way, even if you wanted to do right by your child and Astoria. We were both incredibly selfish when it came to each other, and I don't think that is something that ever would've changed.

I am so fucking sorry. I miss you so much. Every single day, I wake up missing you and I fall asleep missing you. I know I made a mistake, but there is no way for me to take it back now. Just know that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. What's done is done, and I have to live with it.

HG xx

When I finished the entry, I looked it over. I wasn't sure if writing the words out made me feel any better, but I would play along with Penelope's game. I would try whatever she wanted me to as long as it meant I would get out of here soon. I decided, in that moment, I would choke down whatever food was given to me and I'd write a thousand letters to Draco, explaining and apologizing, if it meant I could get back to my normal life.

But, at this point in time, what was normal?