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[05 Dec 2009|06:34pm] |
WARDED TO STEPHEN.
What are we going to do for Christmas, darling? I hope you aren't planning to leave me here alone. My dad will want to visit with his girlfriend. Disgusting, isn't it? And I am counting on the bastard to expect me to cook something in our drab kitchen. We should, at least, buy a plastic tree and decorate it with popcorn. We're not above such festivities!
A Christmas party would be a good excuse for me to invite Morag over. Hell, we could invite all our brethren.
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[13 Nov 2009|07:33pm] |
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My dad has a girlfriend.
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[15 Oct 2009|11:16pm] |
WARDED TO MICHAEL.
How are you?
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[11 Oct 2009|02:08pm] |
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I ripped my trousers this morning.
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[11 Oct 2009|02:26am] |
WARDED TO MORAG.
There is a mountain of dirty dishes waiting for me in kitchen sink. It's been there since Tuesday morning. The trash bins are full. The cat, if we had one, is dead. I was worried about you (I continue to worry) -- I don't want to accept what happened to Cicely. And so, the unappreciated flat suffers. It's a sty.
I don't know why I'm writing to you. You can't read it. You can't see my face. I can't imagine what this is like for you. You must be angry. I don't have the courage to go running after Death Eaters, and I'm not sure what I'd do if I did. There is no Gryffindor in me -- figuratively or otherwise. I toss around my expletives where's it's relatively safe. But they took Cicely. She did nothing to them. They took away your sight. And I feel angrier than I've felt since I found out you lied to me. It's too late to say I want to help; I missed the opportunity. Every war needs its civilians. And I don't know if I should visit again. Would you want to talk to me? I can't stop telling people you're in love with me. I'm not good at keeping secrets. I can't stop wondering if I might love you, too, and that's absolutely terrifying. If I do, it isn't because I'm flattered.
Fuck.
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[10 Oct 2009|11:31pm] |
WARDED TO PADMA.
Harry Potter warded something to me. This is still new.
I'm assuming you'll be there, darling.
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| Private. |
[19 Sep 2009|08:57pm] |
I'm going home tomorrow. Home sweet home! I need to be with my dad for a little while, even if he'll only want to watch television. I'm fine with watching television tomorrow night. I used to love game shows, I think? I miss mum, but I would rather her be gone than killed by Death Eaters. They didn't take my mother's life. Likewise, my father's life isn't theirs to take. It won't happen.
And this is all very stupid. If I were them, I would have given up a long time ago. I wouldn't stir the pot without a leader. I don't know what to say to Morag. I don't know what to do for her, or if I should be doing anything. I don't know what to do for anyone.
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| Warded to Morag. |
[17 Sep 2009|09:08pm] |
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I'm sorry.
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[03 Sep 2009|03:19am] |
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Broomsticks are a ludicrous mode of transport, aren't they? I can't imagine what I'd look like trying to sidesaddle one. And the chafing! The chafing. Dear God, the chafing. Nevertheless, I am thinking about investing in a broomstick. Why not be different?
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| Warded to Morag. |
[03 Sep 2009|03:08am] |
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I didn't forget.
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[20 Aug 2009|10:03am] |
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I like my job. I never thought I'd say that.
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| Warded to Padma. |
[15 Aug 2009|01:40am] |
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I bought you an owl, darling. In jewellery form. Come get it.
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| Warded to Morag. |
[13 Aug 2009|02:07am] |
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Will you be hungry this weekend?
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| Private. |
[07 Aug 2009|01:36pm] |
I've momentarily lost interest in the trials, if only because I'm thinking about just myself again. Additionally, the trials are not bringing me, nor anyone I bet, the satisfaction we are looking for. Millicent Bulstrode is the most irritating bint I've ever met in my short life. For God's sake, how could they not agree?
But to me, right now, that's unimportant. Morag's 'feelings' haven't faded away like I assumed. I admit I am torn between giving her her space and allowing them to do so, or ... I don't even know what the other option is. She's my friend; that's all, that's more than enough, no matter how much I want to complicate things.
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[07 Aug 2009|01:27pm] |
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Ohohoho. Rabid wolves. How nice. And I thought that in London, we only had to worry about rats.
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| Warded to Padma. |
[04 Aug 2009|07:36pm] |
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Padma.
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| Warded to Michael. |
[02 Aug 2009|12:03am] |
We never see each other anymore. The mighty Ravenclaws are not what we once were; it saddens me somewhat, but since we are older and less likely to need one another, I find myself not wanting to be the one who makes the first move. This is what I would consider an exception.
How are you? I hope you are eating well. I hope you are no less handsome than I remember. I hope Spinks is taking care of you. Does she, by the way? If you know what I mean, my love. If she is not, your relationship will not last. And me? I am doing considerably well. I have emerged from my rut due to a recent discovery: you know our friend Morag? Apparently she fancied me during school, which is surprising considering I am very much a female. I have to wonder if she still does.
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| Warded to Morag. |
[26 Jul 2009|04:15am] |
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Guten Tag!
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[30 Jun 2009|09:33pm] |
STEPHEN.My darling,
I cannot rest for some reason. Perhaps it's because I am so fucking eager to move out. Shall we decide on a date? I've managed to collect first month's rent by digging around for knuts in the sofa cushions. I woke my father and was forced to explain myself. I am ready to depart from this shithole whenever you are ready. Give me the signal, Captain. Originally, I thought we should wait a little while until things die down, but what would be the point? I don't believe things will ever die down. I am packed, and I already have a few ideas on how we should decorate. Also, if I'm not here and I leave that stupid letter here, I'll be less tempted to
Let me know.
Much love,
Lisa
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