Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Because, my nearest friend, I really do love and cherish your son, no matter how much all three of us wish I didn't.

_Journal Entry Five _

Journal Entry 5

August 7, 1995

Before I continue the story, I want-I need you to know that I hadn't meant for this to happen. I didn't want your son to return my perverted feelings. Or, at least, I knew he shouldn't. Whether I wanted him to or not is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I just-I-oh God, James, I am so so so sorry. It wasn't supposed to end up like this.

I spent the next day with my head down, not daring to look up in case my eyes found his heart stopping ones.

It hadn't changed anything, of course, because I couldn't bring myself to ignore him. He found me that night, alone and cornered in my room. For the longest time we just…stared at each other. I don't know what he saw in my eyes – perhaps fear or anxiety or even, well, I'm sure you know – but in his I only found emptiness and a bitter love.

You've only ever been with Lily, James, so I don't expect you to really understand what that type of love is. No matter what you must think of me, do not blame your son. It was the type of love that eats away at a person until they're nothing but a shell of what they once were.

I-I ruined your son and oh God James I don't think you understand how that made me feel! That I was the cause of this pain! I felt sick to my stomach and I must have looked it because he-he gave me a small smile before talking.

And the things he said! The dullness in his verdant eyes, those hauntingly beautiful orbs that I know will haunt me for the rest of my days, the skeletal frame and sickly pale skin. All of it, my fault. His-his magic had-had-had

James, I very nearly killed myself after he explained; I don't know what it'll do to you and I can't-I can't tell you because Harry wants to. Your gorgeous, hurt child. So attached is a letter he gave to me after that night.

Somehow, somehow that boy knew about these entries. I didn't ask at the time and I still haven't. What we are now, James, was influenced greatly by the conversation we had and I – we – can only hope that you'll understand.

Because, my nearest friend, I really do love and cherish your son, no matter how much all three of us wish I didn't.

© 2010 Inyx Dawn