One Honest Heart

Harry scowled when I told him I\'d been out sampling the men of Redlace Street. I\'ve an idiot boyfriend. What else is new?

18 June 2001

Body v. good. Harry\'s better. Am disgruntled by this. Though am feeling should not be. As usual, life with boyfriend v. confusing.

Should probably never have bought that Fielding book. Am feeling embarrassingly girly.

Still, Harry loves me.

!!

12 October 2001

I still remember the day when Harry told me I had a stony heart. As clearly as if it was only yesterday. And I\'ll never forget the day he told me I had great walls of stone around a soft heart.

\'You have so many walls, I feel as if I get lost in a maze whenever I try to reach you,\' he huffed, face the colour of beetroot, as usual.

I was in quite an agitated state myself. I\'d rather I had a heart of stone. You can chip away at solid stone for a long time without breaking it, but walls of stone can crumble, and expose your innermost secrets. And fears.

I\'d let him see me naked but he wanted more, much more. Total exposure. I told him my skin was too sensitive for that, but he didn\'t even seem to notice the jest. Harry can be very intent. Very distracting.

\'Well,\' I said, \'I hope you brought a ball of yarn, or marked the corners with paint, because you might as well leave.\' That was my answer, or some ramble very much like it.

Harry didn\'t leave. Nor did he tear down my walls, but he found his way inside. And I loved him for it. And I still do. O, but I do.

And now my walls keep both of us safe. Real walls of cunning, ingenuity, opaque transparency, magic, and solid stone. I\'ll never forget Harry\'s face when I explained it all to him, at last. That it should take all of that for him to realise that his boyfriend is brilliant as well as dead sexy is quite beyond me.

He is safe here. My heart is safe.

My precious, oh-so-honest Gryffindor heart.

Father would throttle me with ungloved hands, I\'m sure.

Harry thinks I should write a novel.

I, of course, turn up my nose at him and snort at such plebeian notions. I have money. I have a home. And I have Harry.

Need I have more?

16 May 2002

Have fortified myself with drink. The idiot idiom obviously has little bearing on reality.

Harry still not home.

17 May 2002

blood everywhere. dark ugly dishonest     death has a curious smell

my voice is gone     think the same is true of my throat

that explains part of the smell in any case

why do I                 [bloodstain]

I am a dead man writing

        my dishonest heart is gone                 [impossible to transcribe]