I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.

Part 2 - Lover

It's nearly nightfall; I watched it rise since the afternoon. At least what I believed to be the afternoon. My perception of time is now calculated on the moon-cycle. Which is funny, we used to tell time by the moon at school, I wonder if you ever remember that.

This is the third month, the third moon I've watched break through the gloom of the permanently violent storm. It's mocking me, that fucking thing. I'm consumed with regret; how could I not trust you? I had been so blind and ignorant to the unsuspecting cockroach, who twisted things we both said and drove a wedge between us. I regret not trusting you; I regret pissing about all those years and never actually telling you that I loved you. I mostly regret not being there tonight, or the last moon, or the one before that and the one before that and the one before that and the... Sanity is thin like oxygen here.

I can't remember the last time I saw you, maybe because it was so brief it's fallen out of my mind. Maybe it's because I choose not to remember it, I was probably being a git again, wasn't I? Lording over you as I always did. It used to be comfortable, but then it changed to tension so quickly and our fights got longer. You didn't forgive me so easily then, you probably never will now. I like to think that you believe in my innocence; but I pushed you too far back for comfort and broke the trust between us. My behaviour was doubtful and I was vague, why would you trust me now?

Is it lonely without us to guide you? Are you out there, howling for Padfoot or Prongs? What are you doing with your life now that your life has been taken from you? I didn't imagine this for any of us when setting off dung bombs in the prefect's bathroom, so utterly ignorant to the world. I would've never guessed you to be the one left behind. The guilt is unbearable if it makes you feel better.

'Sorry' seems such a trivial word. So much I am not sorry for and so much I am. I know I am wrongly convicted but I am not wholly innocent. I am not whole, merely half, or a quarter… I can't breathe. I was never suited for being locked up, I'm completely unable to take such a small space. I'm watching the moon; it's just visible through the pathetic crack of a window. I wonder how many more moons I will see before I just give up my soul.

I will probably waste away in here and never lay eyes on you again. It's probably for the best though, I am a terrible influence.