We didn't do it.
I'm glad we didn't, I guess. Mostly. I still wish that I could just get those bloody images out of my head but I just have to learn to deal with it. I'm tired of having those things in my head and I'm tired of the way they make me feel and I'm tired of being dodgy around Harry and Hermione and everyone and I'm tired of not feeling like me.
But I think I will feel like me again soon. Hermione's going to help me and so is Harry and things'll be better. Not brilliant, but better. Maybe later on they can get brilliant again. They likely will. We've been through so much shite already between trolls and werewolves and mad whomping willows and Death Eaters with baby heads and brains and shite and we've always pulled through then. We'll all pull through again. I don't know what I'll do if we don't so I'm not going to think on it.
I reckon I should think on this Quidditch game tomorrow and the look on Malfoy's face when Harry and I pelted him with kippers Sunday breakfast. That was bloody priceless; almost as smashing as when Professor Moody Transfigured him into the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.
I still don't know which team I'm going to cheer for, although right now Gin's team is edging Harry and Hermione's. Ginlet's Bat Bogey hex is bloody brilliant and I don't want to be on the receiving end of it.
I hope this getting better thing happens soon cos I'm bloody tired of not being able to sleep the night through.