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Saturday, February 14th, 2004
1:16 pm
Valentine's Day, what a bore.

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Tuesday, February 10th, 2004
7:54 am
The irony of everyone else nearing death is that my cold seems to have begun to clear up, making me think that there is obviously some different bugs being spread around the school.

If I am needed, then I shall be in my room, doing homework.

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current mood: subdued

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Sunday, February 8th, 2004
3:22 pm
Sundays are just so gloriously lazy, are they not? They are made even more lovely when you awake curled up to someone you love, your best male friend. Bas is still rather ill, though his fever is beginning to lessen. Later I shall persuade him to drink some cocoa and brandy, which may not make him better, but will at least make him forget he is ill. Forgetfulness seems so sweet an idea.

[Owl to Regulus]
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[Owl to Rodolphus]
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Monday, February 2nd, 2004
7:59 am
What is the matter with me? I think I shall die as I feel so terribly ill. Please give excuses to professors, but at the moment I am immobile and in agony. Merlin, what is this disease that everyone seems to have?

current mood: dying

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Friday, January 30th, 2004
8:27 am
What is the matter with me? I feel so awful, my chest is on fire, my head aches, everything feels so sore. Though I don't want to write here, and as you can see my ciphering is terribly untidy, it takes my mind off being ill.

I hope this isn't a virus.

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Wednesday, January 28th, 2004
9:58 am
Merlin save me from what I have done. Lily, Lily, Lily...

current mood: crushed

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Sunday, January 25th, 2004
1:55 pm
To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream.
Aye, 'tis the rub.

Shakespeare, the poet of Avon, the Bard, oh how he knew to write a soliloquy. To write in perfect iambic pentameter, to actually have the blank verse making sense, to have it so beautiful it could have been written by angels. That is not mere talent, it is pure genius.

Let us look at Marlowe, the Bard's predecessor. My personal favourite, the lord of my heart.

Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!


O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

Aye, to sell my soul to Mephistophilies for "twenty four years of voluptuousness," to whet the appetites of my burning ambition. Though lesser known that the Bard, Marlowe, the beautiful, feckless homosexual Marlowe, he is far greater. Traditional mystery plays combining with the need for newness - if it was not for my darling Christopher, Shakespeare, Jonson, all the other playwrites would never have been so extraordinary. Alas, he died ages twenty seven, in a tavern brawl, though there is much mystery into his death. He was part of the secret service under the equally attractive Walshingahm, indeed, they were lovers. It seems that the death of Kit Marlowe was not over a few pennies, but state secrets.

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current mood: poetic

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Monday, January 12th, 2004
8:03 am
It is so cold and early, yet I have yet to sleep. For those of you searching for a reason for this insomnia, there is none, for this seems to be a state my body wishes to remain in.

Why is it impossible to stop shivering? Warming spells have no effect, either.

Rodolphus has gone back on his promise to see me more, I went to Severus and...why can't I stop thinking about Lily?

To the kitchens to harrass the house elves into taking pity on me and feeding me hot chocolate. This all depends on if I have frozen to this window sill.

current mood: cold

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Sunday, January 4th, 2004
3:58 pm
School is that cold and depressive gothic hell that seems to pervade all senses. It is just me, or does anyone else realise the ridiculousness of having a Gothic school built in the tenth century? Stone castles were unknown outside Germany at that point, stone castles came to Scotland in the late 12th century. Therefore there must be some sort of dating inaccuracy, possibly even 200 years too early. My theory is that Hogwarts was built by wizards, in the aftermath of the Norman Conquest, possibly in the 1080's, meaning it is a hundred years younger. After all, it is te Normans who brought the concept of the stone castle to England in 1066, and I am fairly sure that Salazar Slytherin was at least Norman in pretense, though his name suggests Turko-Semitic roots.

Indeed, it has been a constant thought that perhaps the founders are some sort of allegory to explain why there are four houses. Indeed, each founder can be attributed to a British type that has existed since the mid medieval period. There is the Celtic-Roman, Rowena Ravenclaw, the Saxon, Godric Gryffindor, the Viking, Helga Hufflepuff, and the Norman, Salazar Slytherin.

Perhaps I have too much time to think.

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Wednesday, December 31st, 2003
8:50 pm
I am installed in the Lestrange household, and it is lovely to see my dearest friends again, and even more lovely to be away from the whining of Andromeda and the ennui of our household.

Ah, peace, perfect silence, sweet and wonderful people. Though, of course, I miss sweet Narcissa. It has not been the same with her at the Malfoy's home for most of the holiday, leaving me to cope with our parents, and I miss her even though I only left yesterday.

Though Bas and Reggie are here, and Rodolphus even though he seems to be ignoring me, which hurts, which makes up a little for not having my sister.

Yesterday, I saw Lily, and she is as wonderful as always, though there was a slight problem when we ventured into a Muggle public house and I managed to drop a glass all over the most beautiful satin shirt that she sent me as a present. However, the day improved when we walked across London and I managed to kiss her again, thank you Merlin, sweet Merlin, for that.

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Friday, December 26th, 2003
2:18 pm
The feast of St Stephen, filled with turkey sandwiches and Christmas cake, with reading new books and lazing around terribly. There are Christmas gifts bought for those who I care about, though I prefer to give these in person. However, there are some that would be unacceptibly late, so therefore an owl will be arriving at those addresses that are not Lestrange or my cousin's houses.

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Monday, December 22nd, 2003
11:55 am
Home, where the heart is, though with Andromeda mooching around and being terribly sulky there seems to be a fell chill in the air. Though Mother and Father were desperately pleased to see me; word has got back to them over a certain Lestrange family member, and I think my parents are plotting something terrible.

It is too chilly to remain here, so I will migrate to one of the parlours where the Elves will have set a decent fire. Perhaps later I shall manage to complete my Christmas shopping, though I have doubts over that. Presents may be late this year.

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Friday, December 19th, 2003
10:02 am
The ball tonight, though I wonder if my date will bother to grace me with his presence. Rodolphus is being strangely absent of late and this irks worries scares doesn't he like me any more?

And Ludo? Thank you. May I dance with you tonight to show my appreciation?

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Tuesday, December 16th, 2003
8:30 am
Is it possible to be in love with one's Secret Santa? Whoever he/she/it be, he/she/it can choose presents so well.

Thank you, whoever you are.

current mood: flirty

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Saturday, December 13th, 2003
1:46 pm
Someone gave me the most exquisite silver quill. Now I am most intrigued and wish to know who this secret present giver actually is. Does anyone know how to take fingerprints?

current mood: mellow

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Thursday, December 11th, 2003
1:53 pm
Cocoa and Cakes evenings seem very popular, though can we stagger these a little more? Though I am a decent hostess and give my guests precicely what they need, even I tend to flag after attending on three or four people in an evening.

Though I do enjoy it.

Congratulations to Severus and Lily - I am most jealous pleased for you.

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Bas, sweet boy, shall we do something interesting?

current mood: bored

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Monday, December 8th, 2003
12:02 am
Yesterday, a wonderful day, with much fun to be had with those who I usually am at pains to ignore. A challenge issued, Miss Evans becoming first enemy in the Snow Wars then an ally, and it has to be admitted that after bracing ourselves with thoughts of Henry V and Agincourt, we frankly kicked the boys' arses.

Utterly amusing, though the most exciting part was ending up in some sourt of rugby-style maul, trying to stuff snow down clothing. Pettigrew proved most able at this, which was most unexpected.

Marco, my poor perfect man of snow, was obliterated when Bas ran into him after Lily Mistt Evans and I attacked him using a pincer movement. However, revenge came within the aforementioned ruckus and a certain Pettigrew, a handful of snow, and poor Bas' trousers.

Then it was away to play dressing up, terribly shildish but adored muchly, with Miss Evans. She also taught me the cunning arts of Muggle 'make up,' which is a tricky little beast to cope with though I now know about 'mascara' and 'eyeliner.' Anything more than this is beyond me. Though Miss Evans looked beautiful in hers. It comes to the point where I have to admit that Miss Evans is even more beautiful than my sister when she is in 'make up.'

Anyone for cocoa?

::ETA:: My atrocious spelling is caused by the cocoa. Perhaps there is too much brandy in it to ward off chills?

current mood: content

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Sunday, December 7th, 2003
1:23 am
Today, I relived my childhood and made a snowman, who is called Marco Biagi after the famous Italian author of wizard fantasy novels. He is extremely handsome, and I ask you please to not knock him over as the beauty of his snowy visage makes the world a more magical place.

I used my Slytherin scarf, and he's wearing some terrible leopardskin print furry hat that makes him look a little homosexual, and stole some coal for his eyes and a carrot for his nose.

Everyone should go and build a snowman; it is so relaxing and far more fun than it was even when we were little. Though isn't it surprising how cold snow is? Obviously, that sounds extremely strange, because it is snow, and therefore frozen, but you'd never think it that chilly. Snow looks so fluffy, so crisp, like sherbert, but you touch it and you freeze.

Anyone fancy a snowball fight? Though if Marco dies, you get evil snowballs.

current mood: giggly

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Saturday, December 6th, 2003
1:31 am
I have taken the opportunity to darken the pink to a more magenta colour, which suits my skin tone far better.

Perhaps I should do as those 'punk rockers' do, and spike it into a 'mohican?' Then I shall pierce my nose with safety pins and listen to bands such as the 'Sex Pistols' and 'The Boomtown Rats.' Their lead singer, Bob Gel...gelllGeldof, I think it is spelled, is apparently one of us.

Oh, a knock on the door, which is most probably Rabastan, poor love.

current mood: Pink

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Friday, December 5th, 2003
1:58 am
And so starts war, with a word in the wrong place, a misheard sentence, or a need for everything to be said in the open. Catharsis, as the Muggle Aristotle put it; the purging of negative emotions through the watching of other peoples' fall and decline. Today we call it schadenfreude.

Though there is light before me, a promise of better things to come. Though I am awful with the cards, I read my past, present and future. The past is Death, rebirth, the cycle of something coming to a close and the start of a new venture, while the present is the Tower, a card of disaster and discord in one's life. Though, happily, the future consists of the King of Swords, that most difficult of cards that promises a man of cool character, not usually emotional, someone who has darkness in their soul and iron intelligence.

Possibly I am becoming better at the cards?

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