Theodore's Journal
I still don't understand Seamus. That he can stand to touch me without violence or disgust, that he can make me want to touch him and be touched by him without recourse to wiles and craftiness is... frankly incredible. And terrifiying. It scares me, the way I want him. I can't... I won't ask those things of Seamus. And he deserves better than me... someone who isn't broken and scarred in so many ways beyond the visible. And I feel that I'm leading him on, giving hope where I shouldn't, and I know I just need to stop, but I can't make myself do it. I wish I knew how Seamus can make my will melt just by touching me, looking at me... kissing me.
But I wish a lot of things. A lot of things I'll never be able to have. I wish I had that sugarcoated dream of a life that ordinary people do. People like Seamus. What good is purity of blood if it only ever ends in pain? For me, for Draco, for all the others to a greater or lesser degree. It isn't supposed to work that way; we're supposed to want for nothing, but I feel more than ever that I want for everything.
But that's the way of things, isn't it? The world is hardly hearts and roses. "When we are born, we cry that we are come/ To this great stage of fools."
But I wish a lot of things. A lot of things I'll never be able to have. I wish I had that sugarcoated dream of a life that ordinary people do. People like Seamus. What good is purity of blood if it only ever ends in pain? For me, for Draco, for all the others to a greater or lesser degree. It isn't supposed to work that way; we're supposed to want for nothing, but I feel more than ever that I want for everything.
But that's the way of things, isn't it? The world is hardly hearts and roses. "When we are born, we cry that we are come/ To this great stage of fools."