H. Granger's Journal

April

Wednesday, April 2, 2003

6:42PM

Rather a successful day today. Spoke briefly with Domenico Denarii, the chronically vague Italian man leading my Latin seminar, about the paper that I'm submitting for the design certificate; he said, "At first I thought, this woman writes so poetically, she must be deceiving me-- but I could not find a flaw," which seems, once disentangled, to be very high praise. Also, I have a fellowship offer at the Centre for Technical Sorcery, an hour or two outside Berlin by train. I probably won't accept it-- I have high hopes for a situation nearer London-- but it would certainly be pleasant to live near Viktor, and Harry also has friends in Germany.

Thursday, April 3, 2003

1:59PM

Ron visited the specialist yesterday, and seems markedly more chipper as a result. He told me all about his plans for Japan, his projected attendance at a conference for would-be entrepreneurs, and the amount of pus that oozed from his gum before Decaede cleared it up.

Friday, April 4, 2003

12:46PM

I have a new Arithmancy text now: Representations and Characters of Groups, by Jamison and Riebeck. I'm very amused by the fact that the title sounds like a sociomancy book, or even a theoretical work in Muggle Studies. I'm also excited at the prospect of a text that, unlike Fraleigh, assumes an intelligent and experienced reader.

Monday, April 7, 2003

10:10PM

Harry's visiting in a week. This will be none too soon, as I am growing twitchy. The twitchiness is mostly expressing itself in a strong desire to stare at Stewart Ackerley . . . and analyze his every fashion mistake. The boy (young, arrogant, smart, good at arithmancy though rather sloppy, cursed with a stupid name) is undoubtably pretty-- and blond. Have I mentioned how embarrassing it is that I genuinely prefer men who look like Gilderoy Lockhart? I do, and it is-- however, Stewart's robes keep attempting to be trendy, which is almost unforgivable. Men's clothing is much better off in the muted range, and absolutely nothing is worse than a wizard who tries to appear "in the know" by attaching functionless zippers to his robes.

And of course Harry, who despite all his pretensions has never learned to treat his attractions rationally, would be deeply disturbed if I were to mention this to him. Ah, if only he were here to distract me properly . . .

Friday, April 11, 2003

12:15AM

After our seminar in Latin this evening, we all (save Domenico) went to the pub. I actually go there very rarely, since Ron and his mates decided very early in the year that it was far more cost-effective to purchase a bottle or two of Irish whiskey each weekend . . . (When they run out of whiskey they resort to conjuring juice and pirate hats to match the undrinkable rum that Ron keeps shoved in his closet.)

Of course, at the pub we had a lovely intellectual conversation about the use of furens in incantations to inspire violent emotion other than rage. We also plotted the Domenico drinking game; his incurable vagueness is driving us to strong measures.

1:06PM

Harry's stuck tracing down the source of bad potion ingredients in the project he's been working on, and may not appear until Sunday. This gives me more time to study for my Design certificate, I suppose . . . Or to continue attempting to read the article on stylistic originality in Latin incantations that Domenico gave me in Italian. I don't technically know Italian-- but evidently this did not cross his mind. At any rate, between French and Latin I've been plugging my way through it quite effectively.

Saturday, April 12, 2003

6:22PM

Jamison and Riebeck referenced one of Fraleigh's proofs. I feel a strange urge to burn the book.

Wizarding literature group with Stewart Ackerley & friends today. He has cut his hair, which ought to look awful but doesn't, and for once in his life he was wearing subdued, grey robes.

If the world ends and Harry is on time, he should be here in five minutes. Sincerely hope he manages to appear . . .

Monday, April 14, 2003

4:08PM

Harry was an hour late. I can't actually faulting him for failing to fly here from Manchester, partway over open ocean, in exactly eight hours, but I do wish he would learn to give accurate estimates of his own arrival times.

He did bring me a book, though. In an ideal world I would write a conference submission about quorum systems (applied-arithmancy model of distributed spell behaviour) by tomorrow, but the book is so fascinating I'm tempted to read it instead. It's a very persuasive and thoroughly researched analysis of the possible ramifications of greater interaction between the wizarding world and the rest of the world, with special emphasis on probable technological developments.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

1:20PM

Have determined that it is not humanly possible to prevent Institute beds from squeaking. I suspect that some shred of ghostly consciousness may cling to them, since I've tried all the standard soundproofing charms, to no avail. Ron has just confirmed that he and his mates really do stand in the corridor laughing at Harry and me. I suppose I should accept that it's my fate to provide them with a week of amusement; since the Institute cannot bring itself to provide a sufficient number of bookcases, my floor is not clear enough to serve as an alternate venue.

Thursday, April 17, 2003

10:42AM

Finished the book Harry gave me last night, fending off his attempts to distract me. The book was truly brilliant. When I had emerged and we were lying entwined and chatting, Harry decided to ask me whether I was attracted to any of the men in my various study groups. Was forced to admit that I've been appreciating Stewart Ackerley's looks; I pointed out to Harry that an aesthetic interest in a young man one finds, well, young and arrogant and who is not remotely available is not the sort of thing that he should find threatening. He seemed doubtful, and was quiet for a while in the patented Harry "If I don't say anything, I can pretend that I'm stoic" manner.

Harry eventually admitted that his insecurity stems from the fact that we are actually going to live together, come September. For reasons I don't quite follow, this triggered not a traditional fear of commitment, but fear that I've somehow been hiding something from him, all these years. I suggested that my usual problem is excessive honesty (or at least excessive sharing of information). Unfortunately, to bolster the case for my own openness I had to admit that this journal exists, and though I store it in an extra-dimensional space to prevent hostile prying I strongly suspect that Fred and George, always most talented when one least wants them, read it anyway, and know that Viktor does. Extracted a promise from Harry not to peek; it would only cause him unnecessary worry.

I did not, of course, mention that Ron and I flirt madly when he is not around; we do it not because we're remotely interested in each other (Ron and I are both too sane to fall in love with each other, and know it well) but because it causes us no end of amusement to see all the people who read ten years of Witch Weekly articles on the "special connection" between Harry's best friends blink and jump. Have only kissed Ron once, by mistake when we were both drunk and I was missing Harry more than usual, and Harry didn't talk to me for three days; have no desire to repeat that episode.

At any rate, I eventually calmed Harry by telling him about our wizarding lit. readings until he grew bored and decided that he was much better off trying to pull my knickers off with his teeth; I laughed at him, we snogged cheerfully, and all was well.

Of course, I'm still worried about moving in with Harry. But that's traditional, boring fear of commitment; my emotional problems are just never exciting enough to merit real relationship time, especially if I don't want to make unnecessary trouble.

Monday, April 21, 2003

12:33AM

I suppose I should have known that when one informs Harry that he ought not to do something, for his own good, and he listens quietly and perhaps nods, he will immediately dedicate his life to attempting said activity, even if actual demons stand in his way.

In other words, he sulked at me for a good day after I admitted the existence of this journal. I deal very badly with Harry's sulks-- but luckily (after the stress of taking the Galea Rubra Technical Certificate exam, which was his ostensible excuse for visiting the Institute this week, had come and gone) the coldness dissipated, leaving nothing worse than a predisposition to find Stewart Ackerley irritating.

And he informed me that he knows Ron and I flirt constantly, and doesn't care; this is very sensible of him, of course, but given Harry's general feeling that his relationships must somehow match the Thing of Shining Beauty that is James and Lily, more than I had hoped.

Today and yesterday were lovely, though . . . And there was one strangely amusing morning sometime this week, when I half-woke to Harry petting me, and thought, "But I am a vector space. You can't add a basis vector-- I already have a linearly independent set that spans the space!" Arithmancy seems to be becoming rather too ingrained, though perhaps I should investigate vector spaces as models of self-definition in shapechanging rituals a bit more thoroughly.

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

10:58AM

Of course Harry read my journal. I'm just hoping that he won't do so repeatedly-- unlike Ron, who simply leans over my shoulder as I write, and tries to make me insert more about him. And pirate hats. He's becoming quite skilled at conjuring them.

Wednesday, April 23, 2003

12:39AM

Harry passed the Galea Rubra exam quite handily. In a not particularly related episode, he decided that even though he and Ron have been practicing brassiere-unhooking spells since they noticed I wore one, my current brassieres are insufficiently amusing (he wants to take them off with his teeth, too) and therefore he should order me more. There's a tracking charm on the package; he's been gleefully sending owls, informing me of each major landmark. At the moment the package is in Birmingham.

Thursday, April 24, 2003

11:47PM

Three of my four brassieres have arrived in Manchester. Harry has been owling me updates.

And I'm considering trying to work for Domenico Denarii this summer. He is so very vague that this might be unwise, but I would really prefer to have funds for travel expenses. Otherwise I'll be trapped in one place for the entire summer; since my options are Harry's flat in Manchester, the Burrow with Draco and Ginny, my parents' house (where all magic must be carefully concealed, to avoid disturbing their acquaintances), wherever Ron decides to camp before moving to Japan (he's talking about lurking in Diagon Alley for a few months, and I can only imagine what his rooms will look like) and a flat in Cardiff all by myself (I've a fellowship with the TRC there next year) lack of mobility is fairly daunting.

Friday, April 25, 2003

8:52PM

Glimpsed Stewart Ackerley briefly this afternoon. He was wearing entirely white, which is simply not appropriate for men's clothing, especially when it's oddly cut and reveals unnecessary amounts of pale skin. The only other man I've ever known to wear pure white was Blaise, in some of his excesses of "fashion".

It appears that there's at least some funding for me to work for the Arithmancy Forum this summer. This would be much saner than working for Domenico. It would also be closer to my field of specialization, but far less research-oriented, which is a difficult choice to make. (Arithmancy Forum is mostly involved in education-- writing texts, encouraging pre-Hogwarts students to learn maths, that sort of thing.)

Saturday, April 26, 2003

4:39PM

Long-delayed owl from Viktor. He confirms that he has, indeed, been unhappy ever since I decided not to go to the Centre for Technical Sorcery, partly because he's lonely, partly because he would rather like to live in Wales himself, but can't justify playing for any of the teams there.

No lit. group this afternoon. Planned to use the time studying for the Design Certificate-- only a few weeks until the exams begin!-- but ended up sleeping for twelve hours instead. Should be more careful with Ron's rum, or cast myself an alarm.

Sunday, April 27, 2003

11:18AM

Went to a Walpurgisnacht-is-sometime-around-now celebration last night with Ron. Since this is the Institute, and therefore unavoidably scholarly, the celebration consisted of sitting in a circle reading stories, with the occasional illusion thrown in for variety. I performed a long and complicated illusion based on Australian folk songs. Ron read about sex.

Ron's choice of topic was quite pointed; Eloise Midgen had come back for the event. Eloise was a year or two ahead of us at Hogwarts, and in Hufflepuff, which meant we paid her less than no attention; this is somewhat surprising, since her hair is the closest to Weasley red I've ever seen. Ron ran into her at a party a year or two after we were out of school, and she beat him at chess (I always feel I ought to be better at chess than I am, but the truth is my powers of attention are very well-suited to considering one problem at length, and quite ill-suited to tracking thirty-two pieces, especially when half of them are shouting at me). Ron lost his heart to Eloise, along with the game; or he would have lost his heart, if he hadn't been essentially rather happy and well-adjusted, and not inclined to spend the next several years pining after Eloise, who's been hot and cold by turns. (I do think, though, that he came to the Institute partly because Eloise did the Design Certificate a year or two before we were here. She does visit, after all.)

I walked back from Walpurgisnacht a bit earlier than Ron. Walked into his room to find one of his mates an hour or so later-- we'd been having a complicated argument about mistletoe-- and managed to interrupt Ron just as he was draping his arm about Eloise's shoulders. I walked out quickly, then sulked a bit because I have grown used to Ron entertaining me when I'm not studying. Tried to contact Harry, but he was sensibly asleep, not staring at his fire waiting for a voice. Eventually gave up and went to bed, sleepily ignoring the heavy breathing from Ron's room. (Evidently he's given up on sound-proofing altogether.)

Wednesday, April 30, 2003

10:17PM

Brassiere Four arrived in Manchester and was judged unworthy (I hate underwire; I have better things to do with my time than charm my clothing not to rub uncomfortably). Harry has returned it.