His Corner of the World

Still feel like shite.

At least now I know who to blame.

Women.

One drugs me, one poisons me, one punches me. And evidently Susan has moved on beautifully. Can't tell you what that does for my self esteem. Can't really blame her, though.

Damn. Still have to go see Pansy. Wonder what the hell she'll do to me?

Need to make more male friends. Preferably ones that don't lurk in my office and hit me. May wander over to Cormac's office, although brandy sounds nauseating right now. And he'd poke fun at me mercilessly. Speaking of, wonder what Terry Boot has been up to? Haven't heard from him in months. He'd get a good laugh out of all this. They both would. Bastards.

Have piles and piles of work that have built up over the last two weeks. Did I do anything over the past fortnight?

And there's Cormac's voice in my head saying, "Yeah, mate, you did a redhead."

Think may vomit again. Hope she rots.


P.S. Need new secretary. Damn it. Asking for references this time. And will get my own fucking tea.

So lunch Monday was pathetic.

Haven't owled Susan. Or stopped by. I have no idea what to say that wouldn't sound petty or small. So I've said nothing, which I'm sure will go over like a lead balloon. I'm quite possibly the worst boyfriend ever, but I'm quite certain someone's told me that before. She deserves better than me, obviously. But not Bletchley. Pretty sure I may hate him.

Saw Padma in the corridor today. Almost knocked her down. She looked pretty I'm concerned for her. Mostly over all the Bletchley hate.

Quite put out with Pansy. She could've had a bit more compassion than than she did, Monday. Well, actually, I'm not sure she's capable of compassion.

Redheaded Secretary Genevieve is working out marvellously. At least a relationship with one of the women my life is going right. The one I have to pay, naturally. Oh, that Cormac could read that and twist it into something perverted. Must find another male friend.

On that note, I'll go back to work.

Am an idiot.

This is not a new revelation, but just a little cathartic actually writing it down, seeing it in black and white.

Should have listened to Pansy.

What is the world coming to when I actually think I should have taken advice from someone with her questionable morals?

I don't suppose I should be critisizing other people's morals, now should I?

Padma hates me. Said she doesn't want to see me outside of work. I cannot believe I did that. I deeply regret it, and yet at the same time I don't. I wonder what might've happened between us if we'd ever acted on our attraction in school. Friends for so long... and obviously compatible. It would have come to the same end, probably. Hate me. She's definitely been avoiding me. I haven't even seen a glimpse of her, and we work on the same floor.

You know, the only ex-girlfriend that doesn't hate me is Gin. Wonder why?

Susan looked crushed. I could hex myself for causing the look on her face. She's so sweet. So unnerringly good. Am a bastard. Have heard nothing from her. Nothing. Said she'd owl. She's probably done with me, too.

The only woman in my life right now who seems to tolerate my presence with any degree of kindness (besides Mum) is Genevieve. Glad I learned her name. She's very good at her job. Patted my shoulder encouragingly this morning, which tells me that I'm not being professional enough at work, and moping. Cannot go to Cormac with this as he would derive too much joy from the situation.

Gah. Am whining like a girl.

Best get back to work.

Pansy's home. Thank Merlin.

Crabbe is still out there. Damn.

Susan arranged a double date for tonight with Finch-Fletchley. Maybe it won't be as awful as I imagine. At least Susan will be there. Like her a great deal. Sweet. Smart. Fanstastic Cook. Other stuff, too, but not for journal entry, lest Mum ever finds this.

Speaking of Mum, things could've gone better with them this weekend. She'll likely never invite me to visit her family. They probably don't have a barrage of things that one can't discuss, though.

Brunette Secretary left this morning left in a fit of tears. What. The hell.

She was the sixth secretary since the first of the year that I've lost. I cannot imagine why these girls can't handle working here. It's not like they're the ones translating. Must find someone suitable. Must owl personnel.

Cormac mentioned going to have lunch with Pansy sometime this week. Come to that, Susan mentioned that I should go see Pansy. I will make time. Don't want her cross.

Visited Merry again with Pansy on Christmas. The only time I ever see the ice queen show any emotion at all (besides superiority) is when Merry is mentioned. She reminds me of Merry very much. I count her as a friend, moreso than just my best mate's girl (That whole relationship defies logic, anyway, and how much longer can it last?) and more than a friend of Merry's. Pansy seems to tolerate me apart from the connection to my sister. Of course, it would be difficult to know for certain as she keeps that part of herself very closely guarded. In spite of that, she makes the pain of Merry ease. For that alone I value her. Now, if I could only get her to quit bringing up a certain morning that I've sworn not ever to mention again.

On to better things.  Two words.  Susan Bones.

Genuine.  A smile to die for.  Unpretentious.  An air of innocence.  Unexpected.  And let's face it, she's bloody gorgeous.  She's the first girl that's caught my complete attention since Su in months.  

If Snape hadn't been in there the other night, I would have walked her into the shop instead of just to the door, and spent some time kissing her properly.  She owled before I got my arse in gear on Monday and sent flowers.  Asked her out for next weekend.  Perplexing counter-offer:  She wants to fix lunch at her place (No Snape - plus) instead of going out.  I want to - I also have visions of pushing her up against said tile backsplash and

Yes.  Been too long on that score.

So.  Owl Susan.  Drink.  Fag.  Not necessarily in that order.

The new year will be good, I think.

 

Worked too late today. Trying to get this morning off my mind--

Woke in a strange bed sandwiched between my best mate and his best girl.

Am honestly surprised I can muster the ability to write about it, because my head is reeling and I feel sick. I do not like blokes. I do not do threesomes. I was drunk, but that is no excuse.

Worse, I was drunk and remember nothing. What have I done with them? Did we do anything at all, apart from that kiss at the club? I could hardly ask this morning. What have they done to me? How the fuck do I ask Cormac that sort of thing?


I can't see either of them again, now. I do not want to be the sidekick to their relationship. I will not be participating in this sort of thing ever again. It's severely fucked up. I do not belong. I was interrupting, and I have been scarred by it on top of that.

FUCK.

I don't even know what I'm saying.

Better bury myself in some work...

Today was Merry's birthday. She would have been twenty-five.

The week after she died my dad went through all the photo albums, plucked her picture from them, and threw them all in the rubbish. That night, I sifted through the bin and took them back out. They are all kept in an envelope, and, as usual, I spilled them onto my floor and put them in order, watching Merry--and me--grow.

She was such a beautiful little girl. I'm at the age, now, where I appreciate everyone's small children...perhaps because I know sometime within the next ten years--not so long a time, I am learning--I'll have my own...and when I look back at these pictures, I see what an ideal child she was.

How did all of that change?

Sometimes, I just cannot believe she's gone. That she is dead.

I went to the cemetery this morning to leave flowers on her grave, as always, and Pansy Parkinson was there. The girl Cormac is shagging. The Slytherin queen from my year, who, I learned, was apparently devoted to Merry.

Who can believe that?

I cannot think of Merry outside the box I have put her in: older sister. Blue eyes. Slytherin. Cruel. Disowned. Fanatical. And, of course, all those forgotten ones from when we were children: imaginative. Bossy. Beautiful. Devoted. Silly. Brave.

All of those things remained with Pansy, if the stories she told are true, so why did Merry shut that part of herself off from me? From us, her family? Why did she just switch families like that?

I will never understand it. I can never understand it. Every year I muddle through today, confused and distracted and uncertain.

Why do I feel so terribly about shagging Su on the file cabinets?

It was the best sex I've ever had, and the best we've had together, but I feel so bloody guilty, because I pushed her into it with an argument. Literally grabbed and shook her. What kind of boyfriend am I?

The nutter, jealous type, apparently. For fuck's sake, I need to get my head screwed on right.

Still.

Keep reliving that entire episode in my head. Am going to give myself a seriously painful case of blue balls if I keep this up.

But I just can't believe I actually shagged Su on the file cabinets, just like I dreamed. Can't get her off my mind...

I am currently locked inside my office, with an incredibly painful hard-on, trying very hard (no pun intended, ha ha ha) to pretend Su did not just come swishing in here with a stack of files to place on my desk, and that she didn't lean over so I could see she had no bra on underneath that smart little suit, and that she didn't just walk away as though it weren't painfully obvious I wanted to shag her then and there, "professional manner" in the office be damned.

Fuck. This is never going to work. I saw her walking out to lunch and could have sworn I could see right through her clothes. It took all the effort I could muster not to use my jurisdiction as her boss to call her in for a little, impromptu "meeting."

Holy mother of Merlin.

I have lost my mind.

Meeting Su tomorrow night.

Have been in Ireland this week, helping with excavation. What do you bloody know--they didn't find Merlin's cave, but they might have found the ruins of the castle belonging to Queen Maeve, who apparently trained wizards and witches in Ireland before Hogwarts was founded.

Anyway, have found all sorts of fascinating documents in Ancient Runes, and I am at work translating them. Working backwards, as it were, because the more recent ones (not that "recent" means much, really) are in better condition. Seems as though there was great outcry when Hogwarts appropriated all the Irish magical children. Doesn't surprise me.

Also, finding strange references to a King of Darkness. Must look into that.

Anyway.

Meeting Su tomorrow night.

Am nervous as all hell. Going to have one, maybe two, Butterbeers, and stay firmly sober. I have no idea what to expect. Is she going to proposition me? Or is this just to apologize correctly and move on?

I must admit I'm more in favor of the former. So I am cleaning my flat. And changing sheets.