Malefactor

A Very Important Message!

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 03:47:01 GMT

Oh now wait a moment! Wait just a moment, all you living and have-lived-previously! The days go on, but what has been remembered this past weekend? Better put, what has been forgotten!

My Death Day has passed!

A travesty! The utter shame of it all! To let the day pass unmarked! To let it wither without considering its true importance!

Me, of course! Why, my death! Surely you would not deny me my one moment of truly terrific brutality and glory, would you? A gala! A party! I shall throw a party! Ghosts only, of course, no mortals allowed. Sorry, my lovelies, but propriety first, after all!

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 23:09:41 GMT

Could not comment on the rumour of death circulating around the scrolls and news. I did not know the lad very well, only in passing. One wonders if this is the beginning of the end, or merely just the beginning.

One can never tell with warfare.

This is rather...embarrassing, but I've turned my room upside down and inside out and cannot find my stocking. I haven't been able to find it for two weeks now, and I only wonder if you might have.... seen it.

Perhaps behind your armchair?

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 04:44:43 GMT

Did I just see a head go by my window?

Would someone care to explain this to me?

super long gigantic epic post thread thing

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 19:31:37 GMT

Busy?

right and wrong

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 05:40:28 GMT

Not much to say these days. Well, not much to say that hasn't already been commented on before and put to writing. Life and afterlife goes on very much like it has done before - that is to say, the general life and afterlife of others and not myself. I find that the more accustomed I grow to existing outside general atmosphere the better things become. I shall never be normal. I suppose it's not such a terrible thing. What ghost is normal anyway?

God help me should someone draw attention to me though. I like being left alone. No one to answer to, no mob to defend myself against, no moral judgments cast down, just...myself and my own sense of right and wrong.

At this moment, I feel right.

I've come to the realisation that I haven't seen the view of Paris from your Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur. In fact, I haven't seen much of Paris outside of picture books, paintings, and the snippets I've witnessed here and there. I would very much like to go when you're given the chance to accompany me. It seems a shame not to view the city when the opportunity is in front of me.

so what if you can see the darker side of me

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 04:53:03 GMT

It's late. As always when it's this late I attempt to read or find some other way to amuse myself, and when I cannot amuse myself I end up just sitting and staring and just thinking.

There was a time when I'd never be alone; there was a time I'd wake and she'd be there beside me. It wasn't so long ago, not at all. It's so strange to think back on; I never thought I'd adapt that quickly to actually having a connection with another person again. Now it's a kind of beck-and-call relationship, which granted it better than nothing at all. Love's still there, I am grateful for that. Slowly but surely we'll fill those empty spots and then everything will work a little bit smoother, or at least I can hope.

Sometimes I still think about Rita. I cannot decide whether or not there was more dark than light there, with everything that went on and everything we had gone through, and perhaps it's just not for me to decide in the end. Not now, when the wounds are still so fresh. I can look back on how things were with a kind of fondness, so I suppose...

I suppose I am very lonely, despite everything. A lonely ghost, imagine that.

Hello. I hope you weren't disturbed by the arrival of this letter - you tend to be of the same habit as I when it comes to restless nights, and I had figured if you didn't want to chat this letter would sit until the morning.

In any case, I just wanted to know how you were faring. Whether or not you were still helping Hestia and her family, or if you had made your way back to Paris and are back to spending your days crunching numbers. Generalities like that. I could use a distraction, if you were willing to indulge me.

Nick

The castle is, sad to say, rather dull lately. Even with the continued presence of dead celebrities.

it's a lie, it's a lie

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 12:49:45 GMT

The articles written by Rita Skeeter do not accurately depict the horrors she so claims to be "truthfully" reporting upon. Her journalistic methods are despicable and she makes a mockery of honesty. I advise you all not to pay heed to the things she writes - it is of my belief that she could be bought out with the very smallest of means.

Libel and gossip should never be taken as news.

painful.

mismatching poetry

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 21:20:11 GMT

There once was a girl who I loved well

And though she had been small
And though she had been tough
And though she had been stubborn
There had been something there after all

You see, I watched that girl grow
She changed
Her demeanor smoothed
Her love grew deeper
And somewhere I found pride to be so close

Just to know her

She left
As so many do
It was not tragic
It was hopeful

Now I can only lament
As my insides turn
As my body breaks
As my heart folds in
As my chest cleaves itself in twain

For oh
the girl
my friend
my love

she is dead

a story

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 04:50:34 GMT

Having spent most of my time moping around the castle I decided to forgo sleep for a few days and leave the castle to attend a strange little social gathering in Dublin. I had been invited by an old friend, not Sir Thomas thank god, but old enough indeed. I decided not to sleep because, as I have discovered, it has many of the same affects on a ghost as alcohol does on mortals. Strange indeed.

So I left for Dublin and arrived at the gala, slightly tipsy, hoping to find myself someone to connect with for the night. Lord knows why I decided such a thing was needed and I could say there were a number of reasons for my decision, most of which being why the hell shouldn't I be outgoing?

A good portion of my time was taken up by ghosts from all over coming by to say hello or ask me how things were going at Hogwarts. Rumours rumours rumours. At first I answered truthfully, but by the end of the night I was just making things up, trying to be as outrageous as I could. Of course they still believed me. Even by the end of the night when a man with an arrow in his head approached me about the castle serving as a bunker for Muggleborn wizards and did I believe it and could it possibly be true that Dumbledore was amassing an army of trained killers I just kept right on lying. If people aren't going to listen to me then there's no point in the truth.

Along the way somewhere I was sitting by myself in a corner when a very pretty, very young ghost sat by my side and batted her eyelashes at me. "Fancy popping around the corner?" At first I didn't understand, but then...well, I'm not stupid. She carried herself in a way that when she said 'popping around the corner' I was supposed to finish it with 'for a quick fuck' inside my head.

Rita Skeeter once pointed out that I was in the habit of making an extremely comical face when something was said to me that I didn't like, but I think the sleep deprivation had calmed me. I thought about what she was proposing and then, in a slow and casual sort of way, told her that no, I did not fancy popping around a corner.

I remember she had pouted her lips and looked an awful lot like Rita when she did it too. "And you don't really want to sleep with me anyway. There must be plenty of other ghosts in this room who would not say no to you. All of them I'm sure." Men and women. We're not picky. This group wasn't the kind of picky ghosts you'd see at Hogwarts. They came here to socialise and pick each other off like birds of prey.

And then I just started rambling on. I must have been half out of my mind, because I couldn't stop myself. I just wanted to talk and then there she was and so I talked and talked and talked.

"And honestly, what good is sex anyway when it doesn't mean anything? Me? I'd much rather settle for holding someone's hand or just being near them without even touching them. It's not silly either, feeling that way. You know it's the best feeling in the world when you're sitting beside that one person you adore more than anyone else. That one person you just want to be near and see because everything about them makes you as a person, or ghost, or immortal or whatever, everything about them makes you feel wondrous.

"And I'm not talking nonsense because you know what I'm talking about too. Just that feeling of being in the presence of someone you love is enough, isn't it? And it's a pure and good feeling too. Suppose you were able to touch that person and spend hours on end with that person? It's better than sex. Suppose you were to kiss him and he were to kiss back, even if for two seconds? It'd be worth it then too."

The girl was still beside me, but I could tell she was more than bewildered. She thought I was absolutely mad. I asked her if she thought I was a lunatic. She said no, but she thought that maybe I was a little desperately in love. I told her that I might be, but with a person I shouldn't be. Someone completely wrong for me. Someone who was wrong in so many ways and for so many reasons while someone who was perfect for me waited in the wings. Someone who refused to love me too.

Then I asked her again if she thought I was a lunatic.

She said I was.

"But it makes you happy?"

"Absolutely so. I smile a lot more when I'm with him. Better than sex."

"Then you're a happy lunatic, and the rest of us should be so lucky."

Needless to say when I went back home and made my way back to my bed I slept the rest of the night away and most of the next day. And then I spoke to him over the scrolls.

And now here I am. A lunatic.

A ruined, lonely, misunderstood, pulled and picked apart lunatic.

But I think I'm happy this way.

We're in November now? How time flies when you're doing nothing at all.

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 01:15:32 GMT

Happy fucking Halloween.

a bedtime story

Sun, 21 Oct 2007 06:12:32 GMT

Here it is. I should be feeling a tremendous amount of guilt over what I did, but strangely enough I'm not. No guilt at all. Well, perhaps a little, but not for the reasons I should be. I don't even feel it's something worth really mulling over. It happened and that's that.

It is not as though I'm attached to anyone at the moment. If you can connect with someone, even for a fleeting moment, shouldn't that be enough?

Ah, my head. I need to talk to someone. I haven't just talked to someone in the longest time. Talking to myself is all well and good, but at some point I'm going to lose my mind and then. Well. Then who will listen to me?

I seem to be bouncing back and forth within my own head. Maybe I am losing bits and pieces of myself. Little bits and pieces of my sanity. If I lose those bits and pieces of myself, then would someone still want to love me? What if I'm not the same person anymore?

I'd like to come and visit you.

There was a doctor once who tried to weigh the human soul. He placed dying men and women on scales and waited for the consumption to finally take them away, and once they passed on he watched to see if the scale moved.

As it turns out, the human soul weights about as much as a big toe.

Once the supply of patients with tuberculosis waned he moved on to dogs. Unfortunately since the dogs were not dying this doctor had to kill them himself - I believe it was poison that did the trick. He killed many, many dogs, but there was no change in weight on the scale. His conclusion?

Dogs have no souls.

Many dispute his findings and condemn him for animal cruelty. Some asked if he could replicate his experiments, or that they might see his scales for themselves. The doctor declined to make his experiments public.

And we all are alone in this hell and we all have secrets to sell

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 15:19:54 GMT

(Dated to a couple days before the skip)

An open letter to God, should he/she still exist for I have heard that God is dead and think that he has abandoned those who have chosen to be ghosts and not with Him in Heaven

I don't very much understand what you are doing here, Sir. I have been always polite and just and generally-good, haven't I? Imagine that you are me, Sir (or Madame, do forgive), and you have just been horribly and viciously killed and are now a ghost. You wait for hundreds and hundreds of years, keeping your distance, helping others, being an all-around good ghost for what's it worth. Suddenly the love of your afterlife, and quite possibly life, strolls on to the scene and has you believe that ghosts could not only fall in love, but remain quite committed to each other.

Oh, and things look very bright and happy for you!

As is the way of things it will not last. Another person, another girl, has decided to fall quite madly and unfairly in love with you. Did I mention that she's living? Sir, I can picture your head spinning right now at the thought. But madly in love she is, and you found yourself admitting to her that you love her too. How could you say anything else? You do love her, but not in the same way that you love your Love.

So things fall apart and you are alone. Don't worry, Sir, things get better for a time. You make amends with your Love, and though things are not the same at least you are forgiven and could remain friends. Along the way you meet a man. Now don't pretend that homosexuality is a sin - I've read the bible and I've been around for far too long to believe that You intended for men and women to fall in love and that's the end of that. We both know that is not how things work out.

As I was attempting to say, you meet a man. Imagine this before you judge: he is a poor, broken-hearted widower. The Powers From Above have taken away the love of his life. He is sad and rejected. You find solace in him because he is practically you in another era. A strong friendship then evolves from this and you find that you are able to tell this man everything that's on your mind. You heal each other. No, stop laughing, good Sir, it makes sense I tell you. Put yourself in my shoes. Now, you slowly find yourself loving him.

Things progress and you understand that your feelings are indeed love. A remarkable thing happens. You decide to tell him your feelings. Not with any hope of them being returned for you know he cannot and will not, but that is besides the point. You tell him and he does not run. You remain friendly. Then, in a remarkably cruel twist of fate, he decides to run away, to leave in the midst of danger, and back home to Paris. Your friendship will most likely suffer as a result of this.

Once again you are alone.

Now, Sir, after experiencing all this, what would you do? What would you have me do? This is why I write to you, even though I don't expect You to reply to me. My kind has been abandoned by Yourself and Your angels and Your messiahs. We're not in Your realm, clearly, because You do not answer our prayers. We are not bad people, Sir. Well...most of us. We are good people and loving people and alone - terribly alone. We find comfort in each other without You.

But Sir, what do I do? I want to love her again but I hurt so terribly. I don't want to be me anymore. I want to be somebody else. Sir Nicholas is dead, but Nearly Headless Nick remains.

I shall be him instead.

I love you. Dearly. I'm tired of dancing around the subject, and I don't very much care if that was forward. I love you, always have, always will.

And there's nothing more to say.

sorry sorry sorry

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 21:10:37 GMT

I feel like I've written this before, but....

Has anyone seen my pantaloons? Cannions? Breeches? ...Trousers, for all you younger people? They're grey, usually seen on my body, um...stylish about, say, four hundred years ago? If you do know where they are, or have seen a devious little ghost puppy (who will no longer be allowed in my quarters), please tell me.

Until I find them I'm being forced to do the unthinkable and wear something unconventional. No Englishman should ever show his legs. Ever. I apologise profusely in advance for my knobbly knees and promise to keep as close to the ground as possible for fear of blinding someone.

I will write to you even though I'm tired

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 04:51:06 GMT

Dear Abime,

Forgive me for not immediately replying to your correspondence. Things have been...hectic.

My concern for you outweighed any sort of anger I might have felt by you not responding, but I hoped I would not have to explain myself to you once again. I said in my letters that I needed to write to you, and though I worried I knew you weren't purposely ignoring me. I knew that something was amiss - was that feeling not in the air when we last spoke at Riley's wedding? I had hoped you would have saw that I had been writing to you, and that perhaps you would take some comfort in the fact that someone was thinking of you. It was all I wanted and I did not expect a reply. Not after my third letter anyway.

I don't feel very well, but I know I should. I will explain. You asked how I was, and I find it very difficult to explain my answer. The Council took four days to decide my fate. I pushed to the back of the decisions.

Ghosts can be scary beings, but we all fear being discovered by Muggles. Muggles can feel our presence in the air, and sometimes when we are feeling particularly emotional they can actually see us. They created devices to hold their images; cameras and video and the like. Ghosts can be captured on such devices and if we are it could be disastrous. Muggles don't understand. They can't comprehend. They try to communicate with us and capture our image and they swarm over our haunts and pester our kind until we must go into hiding. We hate cameras of all forms, and I had the luck to be captured on film last year.

I had a breakdown. I ran to the place of my death and knew something was amiss, but I couldn't place it. I know now what was wrong - the walls had eyes. Muggles caught my image on film and this is why I was really called to the Council. It is a major offense and whether it was done on purpose or not, it is still one of the worst things a ghost can do.

I don't know whether I should feel fortunate that my record is upstanding or that I've been around for so long that they took pity on me. Either way I have been ordered back to the castle, which is where I am now, and they tell me that I should wait another fifty years before stepping foot outside of my Haunt.

Ridiculous, of course. I'm going to leave if I want.

For now I am so very tired. I don't feel well, my friend, and I feel even worse here in this castle with nothing to distract me. I do not want to speak to anyone and have been avoiding my friends here because it is too draining to tell them of what the Council has put me through. It felt like a prison again. I hate prisons. I hate being confined and I hate looking out at the world while being trapped inside.

I wish that I could sleep and not wake. If I close my eyes and just let myself sleep for a hundred years I feel like I could start anew and not be caught up in this strange web I've created for myself. I wish you could do the same, Abime. We can't, I know, but I can hope.

In closing I want to ask you how you are coping with your own demons. You're right, we all have better things we could be doing, but it doesn't mean we, as your friends, won't drop everything and run to help you. We care for you and that's all there is to it. There's no arguing with that, you just need to accept that no matter what idiotic thing you might do to yourself or others that we will forgive you and still love you. Life, and death, is funny in that way. And please, Abime, don't think yourself a bad person because of your weaknesses. Weakness doesn't define a person - it's what he or she does to cope with that weakness that makes us. I still think you a good soul.

Yours,
Nick

desperate times.

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 17:28:27 GMT

Dear Abime,

It has been quiet here. Did you hear about the Bloody Baron’s trial? Completely fixed, of course; he had friends sitting on the Council. Lucky whoreson, I will get no such chance. What’s more, his punishment is practically a holiday for him! Marseilles, Abime, he was banished to Marseilles with a friend to watch over him! How I could scream! It’s most unfair.

The nights here are quiet, but even more so without the Baron. I hate to admit it, but the Baron was a comforting presence. At least with him I knew he had my back, and as shaky as that truce was, it was all I had. Now it is just me alone with my thoughts. It’s almost like being back in that tower….

I’d better go. Long night tomorrow, I am sure.

Fondly,
Nick

--

Dear Abime,

Tonight I was reminded of you. There is a painting here that resembles you. It doesn’t move though - I would have fancied a chat with him if it did. I know you are not replying; all I can really hope for is that you are receiving these and know that you are not alone.

I doubt you’re even reading them anymore. Why do I continue to write to you then? I think I need to, Abime, I think I badly need someone who understands when I tell them that I’m insecure and nervous and hate myself so much right now. In my last letter I mentioned this place feeling like the tower. It was my prison and the place where I waited until I was brought out to the grounds to have my head chopped off, rather unsuccessfully as you well know. This place feels like my prison and I’m nervous that when I go before the Council that it will be like my execution all over again.

God help me. No more prolonged deaths, I cannot take it.

I wish so badly that you were well. There must be something wrong, but I cannot help you. You aren’t even reading this now, why do I continue to plead with you when you aren’t even there?

Your Obedient,
Nick

--

Dear Abime,

My summons has come up quicker than I thought. Apparently the Council is efficient this year, though I don’t see how that could be because it is never really efficient. More than likely they are being unreasonable and have been finding everyone guilty who floats through their door.

I am very nervous, my friend.

Yours,
Nick

--

Dear Abime,

I am beginning to think myself terribly alone.

Nick.

--

Dear Abime,

Well.

I now know why I am here.

I was brought forth in front of the Council today and they proceeded to read down my long list of charges. Apparently this has been a list kept for a good three or so years, and my crimes were those against the very nature of ghosts. I travel far too much from my haunt (to Florence, to Prague, to the island of Tresco, to London, to the New World, to Skye, the list continues), I have formed unnatural bonds with the living, and apparently I have been caught on camera by quite a few Muggle guards during my breakdown at the Tower of London last year.

It’s serious trouble. This trial will last for a week if I’m lucky, and if I’m not it will last even longer. I am trying my best to defend myself. The traveling offense is not normally a big deal and I suspect the Council is trying to really punish me for being caught on camera, either that or they believe my relationships with the living to be completely unacceptable and want to up my charges. I have told them that I was going through a rough time and I didn’t know I was being taped, but they just stared at me! They are so cold.

In my defense I said I am only human, and that so what if I am friends with the living? How does it hurt them exactly? How am I committing a crime against the Spirit World? It is none of their business but they don’t listen, they don’t listen.

Please…I…oh, love, I need help. I’m terrified.

Yours,
Nick

--

Abime,

I don’t care what the Council says. I don’t care at all. I am so tired - the other ghosts have trouble seeing me. I’ve fallen through my bed three times. I want to return to the castle, but I cannot. I am being sentenced next week.

I don’t know what they will do to me.

It is not worth haunting a castle if I cannot be myself around the living. Maybe they will sentence me to haunt the place of my death, but if that’s the case I won’t remain myself. I will go insane and it will not take long either. I’ll become the kind of ghost I despise.

Again, I know you’re not reading this. Maybe one day you will. If I never get to see you again, I want you to know that I care deeply for you. I always told you that you should allow yourself love again and that you’re deserving of it. I still believe that is true. You, above all else, deserve to have love in your life. I barely even know what I’m saying or doing anymore, Abime, but I do know that when I’m with you that I am happy. You are an amazing person, I am proud to call you my friend, and I love you dearly.

All my love,
Nick

more letters

Tue, 03 Jul 2007 22:08:37 GMT

Dear Abime,

Today was beyond awful. It is as though these ghosts can see me talking to them, yet they are incapable of comprehending a single word said. I am worried about my summons - if these ghosts do not understand me, what chance do I have of impressing the Council? Never mind that I once was apart of the Council myself a few years back, for no ghost looks favorably upon close relationships between the dead and the living. I am sure that is the reason why I am here.

I am beginning to think I have seriously lost touch with my kind. They are shallow and constantly whine; they put on airs and compliment each other on who is the superior specter through clenched teeth; they focus on who died the more tragic death or which haunt is worthy of being called a haunt at all. Abime, there used to be a time when this was all I could think about. I used to be just like them with all the meaningless pomp and belief in the separation of the dead and the living. I’ve realised though that you cannot be pompous when you’re missing your neck, and you can’t go on with eternity in the belief that cutting yourself off from the living is the best route.

But these people….these spirits do think that way, for the most part. Those of us haunting the school understand that you can’t completely break yourself away from the living, not with life surrounding you at every turn. I can’t break from the living because it is a part of me and who I am, but will the Council understand this? No. I think not.

I hope you’re well. You didn’t reply to my last letter, so I assume that you’ve been very busy. Take care of yourself, my friend.

Fondly,
Nick

Dear Abime,

It is very late right now. I know you to not sleep until the early hours of the morning, so I hope that you are not woken up by this letter. If I did wake you I am very sorry. I guess I shouldn’t assume that since I am up that you are too. I can hear the Baron’s voice just outside in the corridor. If the ghost weren’t already dead I would have to kill him. He’s got a few ghostly trollops out there with him, and if he tries to come into the room with them I might just snap.

I hope that nothing similar is happening to you. You still haven’t written - I am sorry if I have offended you in anyway, though I doubt that I have. I’ll continue to write to you anyway in the hope that you’ll find my rambling amusing.

I miss seeing a friendly face. I do know a few of the spirits here and am cordial with them, but one starts to miss having a real confidant to speak to when everyone around them has other things on their minds. Socializing for one. It is exciting business, the Ghosts’ Council I mean, for many ghosts are lonely souls who solely haunt their particular location. I cannot blame them for wanting to attend the Council. As for myself? Everyone I love and care for are either back in Hogwarts or there in the outside world, and should I leave this Council I would be in serious trouble.

I do wish that I could be there with you.

Sincerely,
Nick

Sat, 30 Jun 2007 21:05:22 GMT

Dear Abime,

I just arrived and already I find the need to write to you. It's keeping me sane, so please forgive me if I start to ramble. It's either this or speaking to the Baron, with whom I am being forced to share a room with, so I am opting for looking incredibly busy with my attention drawn to my writing. I found myself a windowsill and made myself comfortable, but hopefully the Baron will find himself another place to stay for the night because I do not want to sleep here.

I hope all is well. I am sorry if I upset you at Riley's wedding; it wasn't exactly the appropriate time to pester you. I understand that this can't be an easy time for you and I want you to know that I'm here for you, even if you're in Paris and I'm stuck in Edinburgh. I hope that your optimism stays and that all will be well, but if not know that I am thinking about you and wishing you nothing but good things.

Let me tell you a little about this Council. Now the Council is not just to keep stray ghosts in check - all ghostly business is done at these Councils. A group of elders lead the great gathering, though usually younger ghosts are chosen to sit on the Council as well (I had such an 'honour' a few times myself). It's all dreadfully boring, intimidating, and humiliating. Ghosts are brought before the council and punished if they have erred, though it's always difficult to tell what a specter has done wrong in the first place as rules and regulations tend to change from ghost-to-ghost. The council usually lasts about a month, though once your business with your summons has been complete you may go. As for myself, I am scheduled to meet with the Council in the third week. Woe.

So you know that the Baron and I have come to a little bit of a truce, but if I haven't told you well then there it is. We've both been summoned to appear before the Council and so have decided to back each other up should we need to do so. Either this is a good decision or a terrible decision on my part. Still, we arrived at the Castle of Edinburgh together and all seemed to be well between us. Now most ghosts use it as an occasion to socialise, so as soon as we entered the great hall all these aristocratic French prats surrounded him. So begins my vexation with the ghost.

Now he's busily wooing some tart with a poofy dress in order to find another place to sleep. Did I mention the Council only gave us one bed? To share? At least the room is mine for the night. Either I will be driven insane or gutting by this ghost's sword. I do wonder when he'll be summoned in front of the Council, perhaps he'll leave before I do?

Well, it is late now. Take care, friend.

Yours,
Nick

It's like night and day

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 19:48:58 GMT

I am still in a fair mood, surprisingly enough considering what has been going on. It's been a rough week but even still, I find myself a lot happier than I had been in a long while. Quite a lot has happened, it is so very hard to recall it all in order to write it down.

For one, I spoke with Nora, and I mean really spoke with her. She looks like she's doing a lot better, and I know I have the Friar to thank for that. She is a sensible woman but at times I fear for her because she can lose herself so easily. It used to be that I could watch out for her but now that's not exactly possible, especially because it was in talking with her that I understood that I wasn't ready to go back to her.

I'm not ready. I would hurt her, I know I would. I love her too much to do that to her again. Not now. Someday, for certain, but not now.

That's not all too, though one would think that would be enough for any normal person. As I have come to figure out, I am no normal person. Just when I was feeling lower than low about my strange relationship with Rita Skeeter, I have this wonderful dream involving her. There was nothing complicated about our friendship, nothing impure or cynical about it, just me and her watching the clouds. I wish it could have stayed that way, or I wish I could return it to how it was somehow.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up and she was sitting there beside me.

We talked. It will be better, everything will be alright when we say goodbye. There are only a few more days left in the term before all the students leave, only a few more days until she starts the rest of her life. It is good that we have reached an understanding, and I honestly do feel that she'll be just fine, but I cannot help but worry for her. She is a wreck. If I could be there for her I would, but I'm only causing more harm than good at this point.

Abime knows all this. First I tell him that I cannot talk to him, then he catches me in the corridor and I end up telling him everything and then some. I am so very glad I talked with Nora after speaking to him; while it doesn't exactly make things clearer in my mind, it made it easier to talk with her. I am so honest with him that it seems to be rubbing off on the way I speak to other people.

And then...and then there was that moment when I felt as though I understood why I enjoyed speaking with him so much. I still cannot comprehend what it is that I feel for him or what our dynamic is exactly, but I do feel good and I think that is what matters for now.

Not that you were all desperately concerned, but I found my hat. The feather is completely ruined though. Ah well. It's just a plume, the hat still works well without it.

Tue, 29 May 2007 19:55:00 GMT

Some things just need to be written.

None of this can possibly be worth the pain, frustration, and confusion I am feeling right now.

None of this.

I think I was happier being antisocial.

Gryffindors, how about not disgracing yourselves for three seconds so we can earn some bloody house points?

Break another little bit of my heart now, darling

Wed, 09 May 2007 22:49:06 GMT

I just woke up five minutes ago to find myself sitting in the windowsill of Abime's office.

After a moment of extreme confusion, I finally remembered why I was sleeping in Abime's office in the first place. And dear God in Heaven, what a strange day and night that was!

I'm never, ever one to turn down a friend in need, so naturally I helped Abime out when he wanted to borrow me for a day. I didn't ask any questions, all I knew was that we were going to destroy books that belonged to his mother. He never talks about his mother. I was so curious but I didn't ask; I found out later when we arrived at that terrifying house what he meant by destroying those books.

What a childhood. I really couldn't imagine. How could I? I mean, to doubt that one's mother ever loved you in the first place? I can't wrap my mind around that quite yet, but I don't believe it. His mother walked away because she loved him and I stand by that.

But anyway. I spent the entire night with him. The entire day AND night. Not that this is very strange in itself and...no, it is a little strange, I suppose. It's not every day that I spend talking until the wee hours of the night with a friend and then spending the night sleeping in his office instead of heading back to my own room. He just...he didn't want me to leave and, quite honestly, I didn't want to leave him either. There's something about him, about being with him. Something...magnetic and remarkable. Something familiar and just right.

He really has become the sort of friend I needed, the sort of friend I didn't expect to find at that.

I saw his arms for the first time too. He wouldn't have taken off his shirt if he didn't trust me, I'm thankful for that, but those arms...oh, it makes me want to cringe and then cry. Just the memories and what he must have been thinking when he made those scars...

It's too early to be reflecting, I think. Perhaps I should go about finding some coffee for him.

More news on the Ghost Council! According to unnamed sources it'll be held in Edinburgh this year, though when and who will be attending is still fairly hush-hush. Honestly though, what sort of big news does the council need to get together to discuss?

Here's hoping none of us get invited. This sort of thing is never pleasant. All sitting and listening and trying to see eye-to-eye with stubborn ghosts that think change is a horrible, horrible thing that should be avoided at all costs.

Can you tell that I'm not a fan of the Ghost Councils?

By the way, Gryffindors, you're behind the Slytherin in house points. How did this happen? Stop getting yourselves into trouble so we can win, thank-you-very-much.

I'm trying, trying to tell you all that I can in a sweet and velvet tongue

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 03:24:35 GMT

My mind is a mess, such a mess. Riley, what have you gotten yourself into, my little girl? She's hurt, that much I can tell, though I am not sure when I should pay a visit to the hospital wing to check up on her. I dislike the hospital wing intensely, perhaps I can wait until she's back in her room...

Oh, but what kind of guardian would I be if I let my own fears stop me from seeing to her? I need to know what happened to her, even if she doesn't want to tell me. I'm not mad, just worried, and it's all right to be worried about a loved one. It's how these things work. Just like Rita.

Rita.

I cannot even comment in writing.

I think I should just put my head down on to this table and hope that all this nonsense goes away. Maybe when I lift my head Nora will be beside me and.....

Come home, Nora. I'm so very lonely.

I think that maybe I should pay another visit to Abime. He makes all things feel better. He makes me feel good, and I do need that more than I'm willing to admit out loud.

Have you heard of what happened to Riley? *scribbled out* ~~I haven't been able to get anything out of her as of yet. She's in the hospital wing and the healers are tending to her, and that is all I know.~~

Rita has been talking to Riley. She's very hurt and doesn't remember much of what happened. It is worrying, I fear she was in a fight or was attacked. Either way it sounds like whatever happened was vicious.

There is talk that the Ghost Council shall be calling a meeting soon. Possibly during the summer months.

a series of letters

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 18:18:02 GMT

Abime,

It is late here. It's late and I have no one else to share my thoughts with, barring you and you are so very far away from the castle. I wish I wasn't so dependent on our chats, and I'm not even sure where this attachment came from let alone when it began. But there it is. As it stands you are my only friend left that I can freely speak with and right now it is very late and I cannot sleep.

Far too much on my mind, you see.

In any case, I hope you are well and that the day has not been too cruel to you. I also hope that when this arrives you are sleeping and that you open this in the morning. Just because I cannot sleep does not mean that you should not either.

Nick

soleil

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 19:10:32 GMT

My head. I thought I couldn't get headaches, but there it is, like the blunt end of an axe pounding away at my temples.

Oh, no more, no more. I cannot take this. I'm so confused and hurt, but yet so loved, I...

I am at a loss for words, I think.

I don't know if I'm more lonely than loved, I don't know what to do with myself, and I especially don't know why I couldn't be in the same room as Abime Delame. What is this? Why do we keep staring at each other? The conversation between us was like any other talk we've shared, just with a lot more eye contact.

I've never seen such eyes. It is hard to pull myself away from them, they say so much. Naturally I look into them because they're so compelling, only to find him staring right back at me. It's....awkward? Maybe that's not the right word for it, but we look away when we catch the other and I'm not sure why.

My head.

Happy Birthday, Riley. From your very dead father to you. Christ Almighty, what am I going to do when she grows old and dies? This was such a very bad idea, so bad. I love her, I can't stand seeing her hurt, what am I going to do? I was able to get over the death of my parents and family and friends ~~but it still hurts to think of them, doesn't it?~~ no. No, it doesn't hurt. I must be a horrible person, but it doesn't hurt any longer.

I'm sure I could get over her. I'm sure I could get over Rita and Abime and my little Gryffindors, just like I've done before.

I don't want to 'get over them'. I want to love them forever. Christ Almightly, my head. Somebody make sense of this for me.

What's this about a fray? I'm not pleased. Restrain yourselves, children!

I can't not walk without my crutches

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 22:38:14 GMT

Remember, Nicholas, anger doesn't solve anything. Deep breaths. Deep, nonexistent, breaths.

She called you father, Nicholas. Dad, rather. And how that brought a smile to my face! Oh, I didn't think I could be any happier in that moment. Again though, I just don't understand how Nora could disagree with my attachment to the living. No, I do understand, I do. It's not natural, is it? Riley, will all her loveliness and youth now, will grow old and die and I shall never see her again.

Still. I can't not love her. I can't not look at that face and just feel an overwhelming attachment to her. I want to protect her and guide her through her life and love her and all of that, so it is fatherly and it is good and pure. Damn it to hell, I won't give this up.

Now...what to do about Abime Delame?

Have to fix everything, piece by tiny piece.

Nora, dear, I love you from afar now. Can you see how I've tried to give up most of what I once was for you? I love you, truly, but have you see my Riley? Have you seen Professor Delame? Have you seen the people I care for too? I love you, yes, but I cannot change who I care for because of you. You may not wish to speak to the living, you have your reasons, but this is why I am here.

This is why I came back.

I still have my humanity. I still remember I was once living too.

I do miss you. Intensely. I hate the fact that I have to start at the beginning with you, but anything that is worth it takes time. I would wait a thousand years to have you be by my side again, all that time humbling myself before you. I will too. Just you wait. ~~Every morning I wake up without you beside me takes me one step closer to going in front of the council and having myself removed from here. Not that they could do it.~~

Ah. But you won't get this anyway. I'm only writing down the things I wish I could say to you.

Do you even still love me?

I was curt with you today in response to your apology. I am sorry for that. I was not able to express what was truly on my mind and for that I am even sorrier. You deserve to know how I feel, as a friend I owe you that whether you want to hear me or not.

Why are all of my little Gryffindors walking around the corridors in packs of three or more? You look like fish, not children. It's startling.

In other news, don't listen to the lady with the wide, saucer-like ruff on the ground floor. She's talking nonsense, as usual. Thinks I offended her in some way, how preposterous! I merely commented that her ruff looks much more starched than mine and then she starts yelling her round little head off about respect and manners and being a gentleman who never comments on a lady's appearance unless it's a compliment.

Honestly. As though I'm not a gentleman. And her ruff is more starched than mine.

you'll rescue me, right? in the exact same way they never did?

Thu, 08 Mar 2007 06:57:20 GMT

To whoever cleaned my room while I was away, I'm grateful, thank you. Was it really necessary to rearrange all my books though? I can't find anything. Also, did you touch my letters? Some of those are fairly personal.

This is like starting all over again, except now I have to try and prove myself worthy of her. I could never complain though, I brought this upon myself, and I do have years and years ahead of me to try and make this work again. Painful, agonizing years.

What hurt, worse than this hand, now useless and charred and ugly, is that I had to try and explain something which I'm not even sure I can reason out through in my own mind. Love is so very hard to put into words. The reasons why we love and how deeply we love people have been trying to express ever since we became able to form thought.

I'm so very tired. I have no energy to fix myself, nor do I have the want to, I just want to lay here and pretend I'm still very far away from all of this.

I'm in Athens, I'm in Prague, I'm in Peking, in Phnom Penh, in Avignon, in Rome, Montréal, Munich, Delft, Haarlem, Oslo, Lima, Buenos Aires, Reykjavík, ...