H. Granger's Journal

March 2003

Saturday, March 1, 2003

12:23PM

Typical Friday night at the institute, which means we all got drunk and sat about in Ron's room, and I demonstrated once again that alcohol makes me stop being social and start reading books. Though I'm beginning to worry that reading poetry, or even theory, while drunk exerts a strange pull on intellectual Institute men. I may have to discuss Harry publicly more often. I hate getting all squishy at people I don't know, but occasional statements of allegiance can be necessary.

The other mark of last night was that in my hyper-stressed state (too much Greek to translate this weekend, some of it into full English-incantation form, and the completely inexcusable fact that I don't have a job offer for next year yet-- not even an interview à la Ron) I became hostile and was overcome by the deep desire to hurt one of Ron's mates for drunkenly inserting "izzle" into every word. As in, "I'm rizzle sizzled, Off'cer."

Sunday, March 2, 2003

10:37AM

Nightmare this morning. I woke up crying. I didn't know that was even possible.

In my own self-defense, only a tear or two actually left my eyes. But . . . God. The dream itself was about Draco and Ginny. Ginny had disappeared, and it was somehow mixed in with a book, though not at all related to Tom Riddle's diary. And it was all Draco's fault, for reasons unexplained, and he had written a poem about it. I was berating him for this (not sure if he was present for that scene in the dream), and Mrs. Weasley suggested that maybe I shouldn't be so angry at him-- he was devastated, too-- and I said, "Look at the poem! He set this entire situation up as a tragedy! It has the strophe and antistrophe for God's sake!"

And of course it did, but Mrs. Weasley just looked at the poem and said rather wistfully that she wished she could write something like that, and I ran away crying. And woke up still crying a little.

Not thrilled with my subconscious just now. Thought I had dealt with Draco's marriage to Ginny. In fact probably I have, it's just stress. I hate this.

At least I can console myself with the knowledge that Draco could never in a thousand million years write tragic poetry in Greek forms.

Saturday, March 8, 2003

10:29AM

Leaving to visit Harry. The trip is long overdue . . . After a certain amount of time the fact that we're together begins to feel very theoretical. Not the friendship, of course, just the romance part. And of course I have enough work to do (researching the ambiguity of Roman portents) that I ought not to visit at all.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

11:29AM

Drifting around Harry's flat. In Harry's terms it's actually quite neat, though of course one has to ignore the massive pile of dirty clothing in the bedroom. (When I first arrived, he had all of his underwear hung up to dry. There is absolutely nothing sillier than clothing that has a spell cast on it to make the little yellow happy faces bounce around. I have no idea whose fault this was. Mrs. Weasley? Sirius?)

At any rate, I'm feeling somewhat sane again. Also remembering how horrendously sweet Harry and I are together. It rather confuses me, actually, the way Harry can send horrifically matter-of-fact three-sentence owls, or simply forget to write for a week, and then spend hours repeating, "You're beautiful," when I see him.

Thursday, March 20, 2003

11:47AM

Not only was Hermione the daughter of Helen of Troy, she married Orestes. I wonder what this says about my relationships.

Saturday, March 22, 2003

9:02PM

Cho visited rather unexpectedly today. Went to lunch with her and Natalie MacDonald, and afterward to a bookstore, though I was the only person who purchased anything besides tea and cake. Cho appears to be more irritated with Viktor than I had at first assumed; I suppose she was simply more polite to him than I had expected her to be. I should have warned him how tense Cho is about women in professional Quidditch. Of course, she has an apprenticeship with a law firm in Canada next year, and will no longer have to worry about silly Quidditch boys. (Cho's interested in the rights of non-humans-- giants, brownies, and of course house-elves-- and Canada, unlike benighted Britain or indeed most of Europe, actually has a legal structure that will protect them. Thus she has to relocate.)

I also chatted with Mrs. Weasley in the fire for a bit. Draco and Ginny are staying in the Burrow, so I was treated to an analysis of Draco's psychology. He has a tendency to produce violent objections to any plan (such as his projected holiday to London with Ginny) and then remove them without comment a week or so later. Mrs. Weasley remarks that the best strategy is simply to ignore his rage and steamroll ahead; Draco, himself, appears to deal with contradiction by walking away in silent disbelief. (Older and chastened, I suppose.)

Ginny, of course, maintains the classic Weasley strategy of fighting everything immediately, and in force.

Sunday, March 23, 2003

1:38AM

While I read the book I acquired on my expedition with Cho, Ron returned from a party with one of his mates, both rather smashed, and sprawled across my bed for a while. Then Ron disappeared into the bathroom, and was later discovered curled beneath the sink, picturesquely unconscious, his red hair stark against the white tile. I allied with his mate and attempted to move him from beneath the sink. This was a picture of much comic potential: I protested that I did not wish to levitate him into the sink, and Ron's mate was far too drunk to attempt levitation at all, so we vainly attempted to drag him, until he woke up and laughed at us. He then stumbled into his room and slept beside his trash can for half an hour or so, before reviving enough to protest non-alcohol-related illness and disappearing to take a shower.

Monday, March 24, 2003

4:17PM

One of the disadvantages of having all one's friends be wizards is that sooner or later they accidentally stumble upon one's journals. (Where "accident" means "the hand of fate intervened." This happens to all of us, though most often Harry.) In this case, Viktor is being vaguely saddened that he has offended Cho. I feel strangely like an agent of chaos, all around.

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

10:33AM

Woke up this morning to discover that Bill had dumped a large variety of bath products outside my door before disappearing to Italy. (He'd been working near the Institute, though between the amount of time he spends working and the amount of time I spend studying we rarely encountered each other. Ron had better luck, and managed to borrow most of a new and cool wardrobe.)

Anyway, I now have extra contact lens solution (useful), super-curling shampoo (worrisome-- but I've been borrowing Ron's, since I've been studying too much to buy or brew any, and this will at least be more ethical) and hand lotion (completely useless). Perhaps I will try to persuade Ron or one of his mates that jasmine hand lotion is just the thing for seducing girls. Presumably that's why Bill had it, unless of course a one-night-stand left it behind. One never quite knows with Bill; he seems to come up with someone different every two weeks.

Monday, March 31, 2003

9:35AM

Ron's been sick all weekend. It's something to do with an abscessed tooth, which of course he was far too macho to fix when it was easy . . . And I've promised my parents not to interfere with teeth again. Presumably Ron will manage to get an appointment with a local mediwitch sometime today.

In the meantime, though, he's been avoiding most of his mates, and not talking much to anyone. I'm somewhat lost, honestly, without Ron to provide reliable ranting.