Day eight
Why do things always get far too complicated, too quickly? Why has the timing of things in my life always been atrocious? I feel these large movements beneath the surface. People settle for banal, day to day things, but I always knew my future was with something greater than myself, a huge shifting beneath the surface, undetected by most. The point was to be just behind the crest, far enough ahead to take some leadership, but not in the front, not a target.
I got out of the pureblood youth movement when I realized that most of the people involved, like Drecko, were in it only for personal reasons. Nothing against personal reasons being part of the motivation, everyone has them, but when they take precedence over the big picture, it weakens the movement. You can see what’s its become - a bunch of desperately sad people hanging around the edges of the wizard pride movement hoping for a chance to screw it up to their advantage.
Whatever happened to my dream of being the iconoclastic leader of a new youth movement? Was it really that I couldn’t find the right energy in others, the right commitment? Was I really so tainted?
When I manufacture contracts with the family’s business contacts, I pride myself on covering every angle, every contingency. Before I even think about the contract, I’ve found out everything about the contact from all the sources I have. Cousin David helps on the muggle end of things, true, but I’ve picked up enough in my time, including some of the peculiarities of muggle law.
My favourite assignments are the oral ones. Sometimes I surprise myself with my ingenuity. But even with this work, I had to force myself into the picture. It’s, what, one year since I started handling all the contracts? If I hadn’t thrust myself into the position, I’d probably be stuck in some spiraling descent into bitterness.
But it doesn’t satisfy me. I want to be changing the way things are, not learning every little detail about the way things already are.
If Potter wasn’t so poncy, perhaps we could be changing the world together, instead of just sleeping together.
Hogsmeade was a disaster. It’s like we’re (Potter and Parkinson) carrying around pain for something that hasn’t happened yet. It wasn’t even fun, Drecko and Boils spying on us at the Hog. All the while I kept thinking about the look in Harry’s eyes when I put my feet on the back of his head.
Aside from that, however, everything’s complicated.
Trying hard as always not to give in to my apparently natural tendency to become bitter.
Finally, though, after a fairly long break, I have a small assignment. What’s more, it involves a muggle-based investment. Yum yum.
* * *
I want to write this down before I go to the contract meeting.
Harry and I were playing this evening. Just playing. And I can’t stand it that, when I told him I had to work tonight, I felt like all the fun drained out of what we were doing. He’s staying here until I get back.
I was so worried about it, about us, that I told him that I loved him. I think we have general agreement on the investment, on the natural development of boundaries. But I can’t help feeling, if we agreed we didn’t need to talk about boundaries at all, who knows how far we could go?
To work.
Day ten
Pansy Parkinson is an idiot.
Pansy Parkinson a month ago put a charm on her fancy diary-that-looks-like-an-ordinary-spell-book thus: Read it and weep. (The more you read the more it makes you cry.)
Pansy Parkinson added a clause: and if you get any kicks out of reading it, I’ll break your heart.
Pansy Parkinson came home to find her diary-that-looks-like-an-ordinary-spell-book open on the bed, and her boyfriend gone.
Heart-stopping stuff. But I found him, not before having to actually ask everRedy where he was.
everRedy: Duh, whot? Duh, is he missing? Duh, I don’t duh know if I could tell you duh that, duh, and I’m not saying I know where duh Harry is duh...
And Drecko.
Drecko: chortle, smirking chortle, guffaw
And She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: That was a really evil charm you put on your diary, Pansy. You could have at least written "Diary" on it, so people would know it’s private.
Pansy: Where is he?
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: At my place.
Pansy: Where’s that? I’ve got to fix it.
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: Well, you’ll have to wait until I’m finished at 5, then I’ll take you there. Come back in 6 hours, 34 minutes, 34 seconds, 456 milliseconds, 345 nanoseconds etc. etc.
Pansy: Will he be okay? Are you sure we can wait?
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: Well, you’ll have to wait until I’m finished at 5, then I’ll take you there. Come back in 6 hours, 34 minutes, 23 seconds, 632 milliseconds, 219 nanoseconds etc. etc.
Listening to
"Changing of the Light" by Justin Sullivan.
Waiting.
* * *
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted lives in a pretty neat place on the top floor of a very muggle apartment building. She’s obviously added a lot of charmed space, mostly for, well, you know what for.
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: There he is.
Pansy: Harry, I’m so sorry. Harry?
Harry: look extremely sad, look dejected, look extremely sad
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: So, how are you going to fix this? I couldn’t figure it out, which surprised me.
Pansy: That’s because you’re not me. There’s a sort of built-in safety mechanism. If he’d just waited for me to come back, it would have been fixed pretty quickly.
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: (Lumos!) I see. I should have guessed. Uh, well, um... Go ahead, apparate away with him then.
Pansy: (lying) Hermione, it might be safer if I uncharm him here...
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Contradicted: You’re lying.
Pansy: apparates with sad Harry to her apartment.
Harry: Wow.
Pansy: Wow.
Day eleven
The muggle land deal goes today. I hope the enhancement spells on the second property do the trick. Wording such a contract is painstaking. Luckily, I used a couple previous deals for reference.
Oh, and re: Potter... it’s over.
Seems after I uncharmed him from the diary, we really had only one choice to make. We chose the easy route.
Another day
Listening to
"there it isn’t" by drat batfrees
"h the f w" by Sal Serpens
I got a letter. Nothing new in it. Just a confirmation.
Another day
The deal went through. Tomorrow I’m going to the new Parkinson property to remove the swamp.