Veritaserum

[ethan]

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DISLIKES

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[ethan]

I swear, she's going to drive me up the wall one of these days. How can she be so...gah. That's right, GAH.

No, this is not a diary. Merlin forbid that. For it to qualify as a diary, it would have to contain long passages that described my entirely gutsy feelings about something, or it would have to have a dirty little secret that I DO NOT HAVE. Maybe an eternal love confession would do the trick too...but that's beside the point. This is not a diary, man!

Just shut up already.

[ethan]

Ouch, mate!

Bludger to the shoulder and it bloody hurt, too. I normally don't care much for any kind of bruises or injuries, but I'm telling you, this thing roughed me up pretty badly. I know, it's not good for my pride either that it was Lily the one to take me to the Hospital Wing, considering all the other blubbering fools weren't capable of rational listening. Oh well, there's gonna be justice done, I tell you. Once I'm out of pain, that is.

Pour Eternité

[ethan]

I must remember to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Not that that's not a given, but you see, this time, I mean it for good. I must also stop running into Indigo Grace. Not that I'm complaining...but I kind of am. You see, we're supposed to have this hate/hate relationship going on, and the bickering's growing old. So if the bickering's growing old, what are we left with?

A big huge bunch of crap that's what.

I don't know where I stand with her. It's confusing. It's old. It's new.

It's her.

[ethan]

"there's no tomorrow & tomorrow"

I think...

It's over.

This game of pushing and tugging...

It's over.

[ethan]

I've been unmasked as the coward I really am by no other than an innocent Hufflepuff, spilling her guts to me. Isabella Swan has shut me up pretty nicely about House stereotypes. Not that I was a fan of them to begin with, but you know. She has more guts than I'll ever be able to gather from my wool-collecting. And mate, I've got to tell you, she has my respect from now on until forever. That's just the way it is, how can I explain it? How could she do it? Expose herself like that with no fear for retaliation merely because she is able to trust. In me. This wizard who has no idea what that word means.

Go figure.

About the other topic...
Yes, it's finally over. Can you spell that? She sure as hell can. She did a fine job at it when she walked away from me that night. She never even looked back, mate. So ouch, you say? Definitely. But I'll get over it. I sure can, can't I?

No, I'm not trying to convince myself.

[ethan]

She said what I least expected to hear a thousand moments too late. Of course, I have no idea what she was expecting. She didn't choose the wisest moment to go and be all out and irrevocably insane. Yes, insane. You don't do stupid things like that out of the blue. I have no idea what she was thinking. Or if she was even thinking at all. Which, considering, may have been the problem itself. Someone who associates willingly with the likes of Regulus Black is either mental or masochistic. And I've never known her to be stupid. So she's gone over the edge. Farewell.




What? Me, bitter?

She fucking kissed me after professing undying love. Were you waiting for a smile, a congratulatory remark and a "all's well now that we're together" hug? Make sure you wait seated. Because that's not happening in a really long time. Or not at all. And be forced to think the latter. Hex me for blanking out. It's not like she gave any forewarning of what was about to happen. I was content with wallowing in my pathetic self-pity for a while longer, while I pretended I believed the lie I was continually feeding myself: everything was going to be okay.

Big surprise, boy.

Nothing's ever okay.

It kind of dawns on you when you're rendered to a hospital bed, an aching jaw the only remnant of the punch of the night before. If I were a Slytherin, I'd be out for blood right now. As it is, I've decided to bide my time. Patience is a virtue, and think what they will, I'm parting to the French chateau tomorrow. The nurse is keeping me here another day, for observation and some other whatnot. Who cares, I tell you? What's happened has happened, and I bet Black's blaming me for all of it. Because I so obviously propitiated everything. Yes, I was the one who kissed his girlfriend on Yule. Yes, I was the one who made the stupid and irrational declarations when I sprouted temporary bollocks.

I'll say it again: bollocks.

At least I'll gain some benefit out of this huge pile of amazing shit. I'm seeing Ariadnamother. She wasn't happy on this letter I've just received, and I'm hoping that by some favorable twist of Fate, she has forgotten all about my broken jaw by the time I arrive. Dumbledore didn't spare any details, apparently.

Double shit.

So what now? I'm writing in a fucking 'journal', being fucking bitter about everything because I can.

We'll talk later.

When I've seen - Ariadna her.

Pour Eternité

[ethan]

France never fails me. Not in my seventeen years of life has it failed to console me whenever I needed it. Ironically, I think it’s the most dependable thing I have in my life. You would think people – some of my friends would be on the top of said ‘list’, but sadly, I depend not on something that breathes, but rather contaminates. A busy city, with bustling activity, aggravated tourists trying to communicate in that broken French everyone has come to accept as the second idiom of the nation, and frustrated cabbies trying to get their clients to understand that no Euros do not amount to the same thing as Galleons. Puzzled, they never reach an accord. The tourist because he or she thinks that the frustration of the cabby stems from absolutely nothing at all, other than he refuses to accept their money, and the cabby believing the tourist incompetent for not bothering to learn enough of the language before shipping their arses to the place. That’s the charm of the place, isn’t it? Yes. Because France never fails me.

Except for that once, when you know, I became that person who fails to trust. Yeah, except that once.

(Sarcasm doesn’t suit me, does it?)

That’s why you should never rely on anything. Not people, not places…do you get my drift? I’m not being bitter. That’s the problem with people. They can’t differentiate from bitter and realistic. If you don’t look at life the way they do, you’re bitter, just because you’re different. Isn’t that just a little bit closed up and naïve? People need to start realizing there’s more to it than this. There has to be. I refuse to wallow in self-pity for much longer. Perhaps I made a mistake by coming here. Perhaps is too much of an ambiguous word. I know I made a mistake, but see, I like to pretend I don’t know that. What’s the point? I mean, it would only mean I’m wrong, and right now I’m too pissed off at people to actually start wondering what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be fucked up anymore. At least not in this aspect. It was the coward’s way out, yes, it was, I don’t need to know other people think so, because with me it’s enough. But what else was I supposed to do? There was no way in Hades I was staying after what happened. I don’t even know how I will react once I go back there. Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide to stay here and top my level of cowardice a notch. That’ll give Skeeter something to talk about, no? Why am I even talking about Hogwarts? I’m supposed to be here to think and get my anger sorted, because seriously, I’ve got some management issues at the moment. Random things keep exploding in my room, and it’s getting tiresome to remember all the repairing charms I’m supposed to know by now. Not to mention that I’m starting to freak mere out. There’s no way in hell she’s going to find out about this. The whole concept, of course. She knows I got beaten to a bloody pulp by a ‘random’ Slytherin, and she almost set up a process when she found out. I can’t imagine what her reaction will be if she knows the whole ordeal.

So in short, how’s life?

Bitchin’.

Pour Eternité

[ethan]

Isn't she just lovely? I received that owl three weeks ago, and I'm still wondering if I should even bother writing back. What's the use?

[ethan]

So I knew I shouldn't answer that dratted owl, right? But since lately I've been all for running away and being you know, just a general douché, I figured, why not? Marlene's just trying to be nice, albeit in her own way. So I answered. Something I shouldn't have even considered doing in the first place, and the enclosed correspondance is what ensued. I swear, girls are too much to handle, as I've come to discover recently (ha!).

France? France is being its usual overly obnoxious François
self. I'm starting to wonder why I was so crazy about it anyway. But I guess that's just me and my anger talking. Because you know, I'm angry. No, no, that doesn't express it well enough. I'm fucking angry.

Yes. Still.

Walking doesn't help. And certainly not having to run in continously to Ariadna on the Chateau grounds. When I first saw her, I asked her what the hell she was doing here -- in so many words -- and she just laughed. Laughed!. Of course I had to go to mother about it, and do you know what she said? She's staying for the rest of Beauxbatons' vacances. I don't know how I'll be able to manage. It was enough thinking about her and getting my skin crawling, but to actually have to see her every day? Merde.

[ethan]

Can you blame me for packing my bags and asking to be transported to Hogwarts immediately? Right now I'm on my way to my oh-so-beloved school...

and I guess sarcasm's not to be used in a situation this grave. I must admit, I reacted on my first gut instinct. Even after vowing I would never set foot in that castle again, I couldn't help that stupid tendril of fear that climbed my spine every time I thought that Indigo could be sharing classes with a murderer...

Train's arrived.

Au revoir liberty.

[ethan]

DAY ONE

This sucks.

I am not coming out of my dorm. I refuse. I don't care what Peter says, there's no way I'm coming out. I don't want to be here.

So what the fuck am I doing here?

Oh, that's right.

[ethan]

DAY ONE cont.

Okay, so maybe starving myself to death isn't a good contingency plan.

Merde. That was the only plan I had. So what did I do? I caved and sneaked out to the kitchens for a late night snack with Peter. Treacle tarts have never tasted so good, I promise. On our way there, though, I was struck by how quiet the castle was. Sure, curfew has always been established, but you always heard the giggle of some sneaky student, or perhaps the thundering voice of a Professor as Peeves got them...but no. It was death still, as if even the portraits were afraid of speaking up. Curfew's been too enforced, and Peter and I had to backtrack our steps several times to avoid direct confrontation with a Professor. Not only are the patrols being reinforced, there's now a Professor accompanying the Prefects in their rounds.

Damn it, I can feel the murky aura.

[ethan]

DAY IDKBECAUSEIDON'TCAREANYMORE

I've gotten out of my self-induced isolation. Great, isn't it? I mean, yay for the recluse! Okay, I haven't gotten better with the sarcasm. But life has gone slightly uphill. Guess who I ran into today? Bella Swan. I think it's funny just how much better life looks now that I've talked to her. She's a cheerer, that one. And no, I don't care if the word even exists, she cheers people up and that's that, bite me.

Gotta run, Peter just came in, and he's throwing me so-called covert quizzical looks over his shoulder.

Pour Eternité

[ethan]

Just for the record: according to Peter, I spend too much time 'scribbling away' in this 'weird' book of mine. All for bluntness nowadays. But what part of I'M BEING A RECLUSE NOW he doesn't understand. I think I'll need to knock that into his head sometime soon. Then again, maybe not, seeing as how apparently my hiding stint is officially over. Thanks to who? None other than resident social Hufflepuff butterfly: Isabella Swan. Yeah, big news right?

As I was saying before Pettigrew started snickering behind his back, I ran into her today, just when I ventured forth, out of my cavern. I think that talking to her makes me good. Even if we've suddenly made a somewhat habit of meeting at the Quidditch Pitch. Two conversations, and I'm done for. The girl can pull my strings, I tell you. I blame it on the fact that my mind was desperately searching for an outlet, and thus, finding Bella to be the only living human, breathing entity that has been in contact with me as of late (Peter doesn't count as a human, what a sad excuse), she was the one who got dumped the truckload of seven years of not trusting. I think she knows more than what I'm comfortable having other people know. Nice, right? I've officially established that she's a trusted one after two conversations. How lame can I get?

Pour Eternité