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23 July 1998
The war has finally ended. I cannot say for certain how I feel about it, because I know that our actions are not without repercussions. However, the war has changed a lot of people—some for the better, some for the worse. Father has been captured with the rest of the Death Eaters, while Mother and I are allowed to be under house arrest instead, mainly because she was the one who lied to the Dark Lord about Potter being dead, and because I am, technically, a minor. I do not appreciate their suggestion that I am incapable of making sound judgment, but since it allows me to escape Azkaban, I will turn a deaf ear to it.
Potter has changed quite a bit since… well, I don’t know when exactly he began changing. The changes in mannerism has been subtle, or I was simply too preoccupied to notice. He acts… beastly, sometimes. I caught him roaring in anger at a group of Fifth Year Gryffindors, who thought that they could corner and bully me and I would just take it because if I fight back, I would be sent to Azkaban. Funny how the roles have been reversed—the bully becomes the bullied.
I also notice that he is gone from the castle once a month. The most logical explanation is that he is a creature—a werewolf. But how? I know it is not his inheritance. Did Greyback get to him?
No, it’s not my problem. I have enough things to worry about as it is. Potter’s being turned into a werewolf is so far down the list that I should not be thinking about it. Tomorrow, Mother and I will have to attend Father’s hearing. I do not hold much hope, but for Mother’s sake, I can only hope for the best.
24 November 1998
It has been a while since my last entry. Father and Mother now live in an estate in France, while I am stuck here in Hogwarts, doing my ‘Eighth Year’ while helping around with the restorations, one of the conditions that I have to abide by to be allowed to stay here.
I should thank Potter for testifying for Mother and I, and for asking the Ministry for one last consideration to Mother, by not throwing her husband into prison. Granted, he is exiled for an indefinite period of time, which is why they are in France now, but that is much better than Azkaban. And we do not wish to stay at Malfoy Manor anyway, for it has too many dark artefacts and bad memories of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror in our ancestral home.
Once I finish my schooling, I shall join them there. Perhaps one of the Potions Masters in France could overlook my involvement in the war and take me in as an apprentice.
Well, I should thank Potter, but that doesn’t mean I want to. I’m going to hold out for a bit longer. He doesn’t need an even bigger head.
2 March 1999
Of course, Potter being Potter, he’s always out to foil my plans, the dastardly and the not-so-dastardly. I’m referring to my plan of going to France once I finish my schooling and joining my parents there.
Pansy thinks I should have seen it coming. After all, in all the books she read, the enemies become lovers. But honestly, what kind of trash does she read?
Then again, I figure it’s partly both of our bad luck. I didn’t want to bother myself with Potter’s turning into a werewolf, so of course I would end up his mate. And we’ve been enemies since… well, since forever, so of course Fate would shove me at him. It’s brilliant, really, for everyone else’s amusement, but not for our sanity.
Weasel was so red in the face, I was surprised he didn’t explode or spontaneously combust. Granger, however, baffled me. She couldn’t stop laughing. I think she might have been reading the same kind of trash that Pansy read.
Potter seemed much too unbothered by this turn of event for my liking. Has he been expecting it somehow? But then again, he’s had longer time to come to terms with this revelation, as he was the first to find out for himself, and didn’t tell anyone else. Maybe he had done his own share of freaking out first?
How do I know I am Potter’s mate? The Headmistress called us all (including the Weasel and Granger. Why would they be there in the first place? I am the one in need of moral support, not Potter) and explained why I wouldn’t be able to leave to France—because I have to stay with Potter, since I am his mate.
And of course, they don’t care about what I want. Why can’t Potter come to France with me then? I’d like to see him meet my parents properly. At least then I can have a little bit of amusement instead of being the provider of said amusement.
Sigh.
23 June 1999
This is it. The school year has ended; most of us had miraculously (some, certainly not me) passed our NEWTs, and now I live in Grimmauld Place with Potter. At least I get to stay at Black’s ancestral home instead of at some… dump. Or worse, anywhere near the Weasels. I don’t care even if I am his mate, I’m not going to play house husband and make nice with them.
Potter, at least, has some tact to leave me alone most of the time. He would lock himself away during full moons, and since he has started Auror training, I don’t see him a lot. I would never admit this, even under the pain of death, but not having him around makes the Black ancestral house seem unusually quiet.
Probably because Grandaunt Walburga isn’t screaming bloody murder whenever he is not in.
Through some kind of miracle (or maybe through being known as the Saviour’s mate), I had gotten an apprenticeship with a Potions Master, although it is distance learning, so I will be conducting my experiments and making potions in the basement of Grimmauld Place. I have thrown away most of the rubbish there and set it up as a makeshift potions making room.
Potter isn’t too happy that I’ve been throwing things away, but none of those are of sentimental value, so he didn’t protest much. And even if he did protest a lot, I have learned the art of tuning him out, anyway.
8 November 1999
I have to commend Potter’s self-control. It has been four moons since we started living together, and although we both know of our status as mates, he had never touched me without my permission; not even friendly touches.
I suppose things could have been worse. I mean, if it hadn’t been for him, I might not have gotten the apprenticeship I now have. I also didn’t have to leave Wizarding Britain, although I would have liked to see my mother again.
Maybe I could ask Potter to arrange for her to be allowed back here to see me. Surely the Ministry would bend over backwards to fulfil his requests.
And I could have been stuck with someone less appealing to look at. I might hate the prat, but I’m not blind. Even if I have to do so grudgingly, I can admit that Potter isn’t that bad to look at.
And no, that doesn’t mean anything. I’m just being a man who can appreciate beauty. Honestly.
26 December 1999
Living with Potter isn’t so bad, after all. If I ignore the occasional howling (thank goodness for silencing charms or I would have thrown a shoe at his head), it’s actually a life of somewhat luxury. Even until now, people still send Potter packages and hampers from their businesses as a ‘token of appreciation’ or some sort, and Potter, being a person who is too nice and doesn’t want to make them think their packages are unappreciated, would pass them along to me.
Honestly, he even got a hamper of luxury skincare products. How is that fair? But then again, since I am the one reaping the benefits, oh well.
And he is well-behaved too. He never comes inside with muddy paws after that time I blasted him with cold water for doing so, and while he is strangely affectionate while in his wolf form, he still doesn’t touch me without my permission. If he is particularly good, I’d pet him (sometimes! Oh, why am I justifying myself to my diary…) and he’d stay beside me all night.
I have made my desire to be reunited with my parents known to him, and for my Christmas present, he had put in a good word for my mother, and promised that he would keep an eye on my parents as an Auror for them to join us for a Christmas dinner here at Grimmauld Place.
I know Father still dislikes him, but thankful all the same that he is not keeping me away from them, and them from me. Mother is more outspoken with her relief, and I can see Potter smiling proudly at them, as if their approval means something to him.
But knowing Potter, it probably does.
And ever since I began petting him, he likes to sleep near me. Even now, as I’m writing this entry, he is sleeping across my back in his huge wolf form. During the week after his transformation, he finds it easier to be in his wolf form than his human form, so he sleeps in his wolf form. He’s heavy though, and I’m tempted to just kick him off the bed… sadly he’s too heavy for me to even move, much less kick him, so that’s not happening anytime soon.
10 March 2000
It’s been a year since I found out that Potter is my mate. Well, I am his mate, not the other way around, I suppose. In this last year, he still hasn’t made any advances towards me, and I secretly appreciate it because it means he respects me enough not to force his will on me.
He is a Gryffindor through and through; and I am starting to think it might not be such a bad thing.
It must be the adorableness of his wolf, with his tongue lolling and eyes bright as he waited for me to throw the darned stick. He is more like a dog than a wolf around me, an over-sized dog, although I have seen him as a fierce wolf before, when an ignorant idiot had tried to kidnap Teddy. It didn’t end bloody, thankfully, although the kidnapper probably pissed himself in fear.
I only found out recently that during the first few months since his turning, he had apparently ruined nearly all the furniture in Grimmauld Place. He would scratch the sofa and walls, and chew on the rug and anything he could get his paw on. Aunt Andromeda had reminisced on those memories with a fond expression on her face. I reckon Grandaunt Walburga doesn’t share the sentiment, and is probably why she screams even louder at Potter whenever she sees him in his wolf form.
We have taken to silence her portrait whenever she opens her mouth, although we try to do it as discreetly as possible so that she doesn’t realise she was silenced.
My ear drums certainly couldn’t survive her screaming day in day out if we didn’t. Thankfully Potter has learned wandless magic, and the very first spell he mastered was Silencio.
24 June 2000
Yesterday was the anniversary of my moving into Grimmauld Place. I wasn’t the one who remembered, and I had to flick through my journal entries to confirm that it was indeed true.
Potter had prepared a feast for dinner, and when I expressed my confusion, he simply said it was our anniversary. Considering we never actually started dating or got married, I had to ask what he meant. It’s… a surprise that he remembers such small thing that even I forgot.
Maybe, this whole thing won’t be too bad. He hasn’t antagonised me and me him since even before the War ended, and afterwards too. His Gryffindor qualities make him a good prospective mate, I suppose, and because he’s come to peace with his turning, he is much more relaxed in his wolf form, which in turn makes him more pleasant to be with.
Maybe, when I was little, I wanted a crup. I don’t remember if I did, but maybe that’s the reason why I’ve been so taken with his wolf.
Anyway, I have to go. He is whiny if he doesn’t get petted at least once a day around the full moon, and I have yet to pet him today.
Sigh, the sacrifices I make for him.
8 November 2000
Last night, I asked him what he thought when he first knew I am his mate. I would have thought he had thrown a tantrum or something, but he apparently took it quite well.
He told me that ever since the incident in the bathroom, he had become quite protective of me. When Uncle Severus died, he found out about his vow to my mother to protect me, and Potter, with his need to be the hero all the time, took it upon himself to protect me, especially since he blamed himself for Uncle Severus’ death.
Honestly, this revelation took me by surprise. He hasn’t hated me for a while, and that is why he has been nothing but good to me the whole time we’ve been here. Even his wolf is protective of me, and I had thought his wolf is only protective of family.
Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing isn’t so bad after all.
1 January 2001
Mother and Father had spent Christmas and New Year with us. Because they were on their “best behaviour”, as said by the Head Auror, last year when they were here for Christmas, this time the Ministry was more lenient in letting them visit us for the whole holiday period, as long as Potter would keep an eye on them.
I had no doubt that Mother was ecstatic, because she loves to spend holidays with her family. Maybe next time we should be the ones visiting them in France, so we could stay even longer.
She had ordered a new pair of dragon hide boots that were charmed to be silent, no matter where the wearer stepped for Potter. He had lit up like Christmas lights, saying this would help with their stealth missions a lot.
I told him he needed more than silent shoes to be stealthy, and Mother threw me a disapproving look. It wasn’t like I wasn’t telling the truth.
I am glad to see them getting along, I suppose. Father has made peace with the fact that I am the mate of a creature, because I know for the first few months (or even the whole year), he had been incensed about the fact that our pureblood line would be sullied by a half-blood who is also a creature.
I suppose getting him out of Azkaban and still respecting him (only to a certain degree. I’m pretty sure Potter is still bitter about the peacock incident and many other incidents, and he is polite to Father as a favour to myself, and especially to Mother, whom he owes his life to) had made Potter a decent prospective mate for the heir of House Malfoy.
Although I have to admit, after all the drama with the Dark Lord, I find myself not caring about what he thinks is best. What he thought was best had nearly gotten all of us killed or thrown into Azkaban, so pardon me if I’m not particularly inclined to ask who he thinks was a better fit.
Plus, I have gotten attached to Potterwolf. I would hate to leave him behind.
Oh, and here comes the whining again. He threatened to scratch my bed if I don’t pet him more than once a day (he’s gotten even more pushy and demanding, the brat), so I suppose I shall indulge him. Honestly, he acts like a spoiled pup more than a wolf.
(I secretly think it’s adorable, though, so oh well.)
11 March 2001
It’s the second year anniversary of me finding out that I am Potter’s mate. As an anniversary present, he had arranged for a holiday in Nice. I know he didn’t pick the place randomly, but rather because my parents are there, which makes me wonder if he has been snooping around and reading my journal, thus knowing that I had written about us being the ones to visit them for a change.
I didn’t know what I expected from being mated to a werewolf, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being mated to one. Potter’s wolf transformation is more like his Animagus form, and ever since he’s been regularly taking the wolfsbane I brewed for him (I suppose this is a show of faith on his part, that he believes I wouldn’t try to poison him through it), he’s not as affected by the full moon anymore.
Honestly, it feels like I’m living with just another wizard. Although, Potter is never ‘just’ another wizard, is he?
23 September 2001
I know this entry is really late, but Teddy was staying with us all summer and I had to lock my journal away from him, the sneaky brat. He found my secret collection of Muggle novels that Pansy had suggested to me (which are not trashy at all. I only read the best of the best… yes… right…, but honestly, I still read some of the classics too).
I find it relaxing to be able to escape to another world for a few hours, to cast away your worries and your reality to be immersed in their realities instead. I can even relate to some of the characters, and it always makes me wonder what I would have done in their situation, or if I could have reacted the same way they did before and during the War.
Having Teddy around wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, he is a brat, but what child isn’t? I am sure Father had grown grey hair early because of me when I was his age. He keeps Potter entertained when I’m not available, and it is doing Potter a lot of wonder to be taking care of someone; him and his hero complex means that he feels the need to constantly care for others.
As much as he is a handful, I must say I cannot wait for him to come around and spend more time with us, even if it means I have to lock away all of my personal things.
Potter had locked himself away, giving the excuse that he had to seclude himself for his transformation, when Teddy had asked why there was a lot of “aghh”s in my novels. It wasn’t even close to a full moon! Honestly, he was like the kind of father who told their children “ask your mother” when they asked him anything sex-related.
See if I would brew him the next batch of wolfsbane.
I had to call Aunt Andromeda to give Teddy the birds and the bees talk, and the glare she gave me would probably kill me if looks could kill.
1 January 2002
This year, we spent the holidays together, all the remaining Blacks (except for Aunt Bella, of course), Malfoys, and Potter. Mother and Aunt Andromeda were happy to prepare the feast and dessert, so Harry and I was tasked to entertain Teddy and make sure he didn’t sneak into the kitchen to binge on the cookie dough.
Apparently he had done it every year without fail, because Aunt Andromeda didn’t have anyone to keep an eye on him, so this time he was sulking the whole Christmas Eve because he couldn’t get his hands on it.
You might have noticed that I have started calling him Harry and not Potter. There is a good reason for that. We are now in a relationship.
Mother had asked me if I had gotten used to the idea of being Harry’s mate. I told her that it wasn’t like what I expected, and that living with him was actually pretty nice. He kept the place nice and clean, he’d cook me meals, and wouldn’t bother me if I was cooped up in my room working on a sensitive potion.
She told me I am very lucky to have an understanding mate, and I had to agree. Last week we went to the Burrows, and aside from Ronald trying to bait me a couple of times, and quickly losing interest when I would just ignore him, it went quite pleasantly. While it was obvious that they were still uncomfortable with me, they made an effort to play nice because I am Harry’s mate, and Harry didn’t mind leaving early to accompany me back when I told him I didn’t want to stay too long.
He ended up going back alone after I went to bed, but I don’t begrudge him. He’s been spending a lot of time with my family, so it’s only fair that he gets to spend time with his family too. Maybe I should put in more effort into befriending the Weasleys, since he puts in effort to please my parents.
Surprisingly, the Weasleys didn’t know about Harry’s turning into a werewolf until after we moved in together, aside from Ronald, who found out the same time I found out I am his mate. It made me feel special, somewhat, to have known something about him before even his family does.
He cornered me last night and asked me if there was anything he could do to make me accept his courtship. I was honestly surprised. I’m not a prude, and I’ve fooled around before. After only a couple of months, most of the boys I dated (yes, boys, because I was still a boy too at the time) had demanded that we take our relationship to the next level.
Harry, however, had asked if there is anything else he could give me that would make me more accepting of this situation. I am touched, and told him I accept his courtship. Mother didn’t want us to be bothered by traditional courtship rituals, so we are doing this the way modern wizards do.
He kissed me last night and said he hoped to spend a lot of time with me this year, until he would renew it with another kiss at the end of next year.
As if I could spend less time with him. We live in the same house, after all, but I suppose it is the thought that counts.
15 March 2002
Potterwolf is sulking now. There was a shortage on wolfsbane ingredients since last month, so I haven’t been able to brew it for him, and we missed out on Valentine’s Day dinner (a Muggle holiday he insists on celebrating) as well as the anniversary dinner of me finding out I am his mate because he is stuck in his wolf form.
He is surprisingly humane and in control of himself even while being a werewolf, though, and I just realised that. That is why his wolf form is more like an Animagus than creature blood running inside him. We have no explanation why, aside from the fact that he has never before played by the rules, so why start now?
I told him that it doesn’t matter that we missed out on the dinners on the day, because he could make it up to me later, but he still sulked, even refusing to play fetch. Teddy came by last month and they were sulking together. Since Teddy is only half-werewolf, he has much better control of himself too.
And this month he’s coming around again, which means I’ll have a sulking baby and big baby to take care of. Joy.
24 June 2002
The shortage is behind us now, and even if it hasn’t, it wasn’t a full moon yesterday. Harry is trying to make up for all the missed dinners with yesterday’s one.
He has this list of anniversaries of the littlest things. Of course, he argues that my finding out I am his mate and moving in to Grimmauld Place is not a “little thing”, but I know if he is allowed to celebrate all the anniversaries he wants to, there won’t be a day when it isn’t our anniversary.
It feels nice to be spoiled and pampered by someone who is not my parents, and it feels doubly nice to know that they are the ones who put in the effort to spoil me. He home cooks all the meals, and most of his gifts are handmade, although we all know he is crap at crafts (and charms, so probably Granger had a hand in it too).
I have come to appreciate items with sentimental values rather than monetary values. Father would buy me the most expensive presents he could get his hands on, but even then, it wasn’t him who bought it. He’d send one of our house elves to go shop for my presents. Mother, at the very least, shops for me herself, but she never makes anything for me (and I would never say this out loud, but I think it’s because just like Harry, she is pretty bad at crafts).
28 October 2002
The little hellion that sometimes answers to Teddy is staying with us for the week, until after Halloween. It was, of course, Harry’s idea to take him trick-or-treating, and after explaining that Muggle children visit others’ houses to ask for candies, Teddy just cannot stop bouncing around in excitement.
It’s all about the candy, I tell you. I don’t remember his parents having a particularly vicious sweet tooth, so it’s kind of strange that he has one. He doesn’t even bother to wait up for Harry to finish explaining that he has to dress up too, and was already firecalling the Weasley twins and asking them if they would help him trick the poor, unsuspecting Muggles if they do not give him candies.
We’ll have to make sure they gave him enough candies, or we will have our hands full with multiple charges of breaches of the Statute of Secrecy. What fun would that be. But then again, that might be more tolerable than dealing with Teddy on a sugar high.
Decisions, decisions.
2 January 2003
Yesterday was our proper anniversary, and Harry knows I wouldn’t complain about celebrating it like I did with my finding out I am his mate, so he basically went all out. I swear, he is always looking for an excuse to spoil me, although there is no need for an excuse.
I love to be spoiled. He, of all people, should know that best. I am not proud of how I was when I was young and very much a spoiled brat, so I am quite wary that his spoiling me would change me back to an entitled brat. He only said that he will be the first to reprimand me if I do, but since he is the one spoiling me, would it even work?
I suppose I will just have to trust him for now.
Last night, we went to see The Nutcracker. I can see that it is not something he is very interested in, but at least he makes an effort to watch and try to understand it. Afterwards, we came home to eat the dinner Harry had prepared before we left for the theatre and kept warm with a charm. The feast was nearly literally enough to feed a small army, I think at least fifteen people. There were so many to choose from, and we are set for the rest of the week.
He gave me a beautiful diamond necklace as an anniversary gift. It is one of the only gifts from him that is not handmade, but he said it is a sign of his intent to propose to me one day. Apparently Muggles propose to another with diamond rings, but since he will propose to me with the Potter signet ring, he gives me a diamond in another form.
Father seems impressed by the size of the diamond. Mother is just happy that Harry has stated his intent of marrying me, as she is a romantic at heart like that.
I knitted him a scarf for his gift. It’s a plain one, with alternating colours of red, gold, green, and silver. I cannot knit anything more complicated than a scarf yet, and I cannot knit patterns yet. In the spirit of being friendlier with the Weasleys, I had asked the Weasley matriarch if she would teach me how to knit. She looked like I just told her I’d be buying her a private island, insisted that I call her Molly, and wouldn’t let me go until I made good progress with the scarf.
It is ugly, and nowhere near as valuable as Harry’s gift for me, but he cried like a baby and said no one aside from Molly had ever given him anything they made themselves, so he was very happy to receive my scarf.
I just know he will be wearing it everywhere now. It is winter, after all, so a scarf is not out of place.
And in a way, it makes me happy that my gift could make him so happy.
14 March 2003
Time sure flies. I cannot believe it has been four years since I found out that I am Harry’s mate, and nearly four years since I moved into Grimmauld Place.
Our relationship has become physical. I see no problem in it, since we are going to mate and marry, and we have been together for a long time now. I do enjoy seeing the interesting shade of red Father’s face became when he found out, though. I am sure Mother secretly enjoyed it too.
Interestingly, Harry has not brought up the subject of mating yet. I know he wants to claim me, but I think he is waiting for the signal from me, and he doesn’t bring it up because he doesn’t want me to feel pressured.
I suppose it is near time for me to allow him to mark me with the mating bite. Is it strange that I want to be married to him before I am mated to him? I want people to know that I chose to be with him, and that I didn’t marry him because I had to, since he already claimed me.
I know that we have no one to prove ourselves to, but he has spent the past few years giving me choice in everything, and I want them to see that our marriage is my choice, and so is our mating. I want them to see that if I say no (not that I would, really), Harry would not press the matter further.
One year. I will wait for another year, and on our next anniversary, I will allow him to claim me.
If, of course, we are already married by that time. I reckon one year is enough time for Harry to get his senses together and propose, and for Mother and Molly to go into hysterics while planning the wedding.
25 June 2003
Yet again, I suspect Harry has been reading my journal. How else would he know I am now ready for him to actually propose to me? Granger said that boyfriends sometimes know when it is time, but Harry? Really? I don’t believe it.
He proposed last night during dinner for one of our many anniversaries. Oh, at least he didn’t propose on another date, so he cannot celebrate the anniversary of him asking for my hand in marriage.
I cannot remember exactly what he said, but it was very sweet and touching. He said that he saw being my mate as a blessing, because that means he is biologically geared towards protecting me, which he has sworn to do as a favour to Mother and Uncle Severus. Over time, as we learned to tolerate each other, to know each other, and to help each other, we both end up falling for each other.
He also said that while protecting me and providing for me was an obligation to him, he enjoyed doing it, being the natural caretaker that he is, and over time, he learned to want to. He ended his speech with asking if I would let him do what he wants to do for the rest of our lives.
How could I say no? (And really, it’s not like I want to say no, anyway).
28 December 2003
Today is our wedding day. Harry chose today because my parents are in England for the holidays, as they are now given two weeks to come here and stay with us. As I expected, Mother and Molly went into a wedding planning frenzy, and although it is my wedding, they will growl at me if I ever step on their toes.
I do not care much for the small details of the wedding, and neither does Harry, so I suppose it is nice that they are there to help us plan it. We chose the cake and the caterer, as well as compiled the guest list, but that was the extent of our involvement. The colour scheme, the seating arrangement, and the orchestra were all picked by them. They let us pick the music for the first dance too, thankfully.
They did a brilliant job, though. It was like a scene from a fairytale book, and I was mesmerised. It must’ve cost quite a lot, but Molly said they did most of the décor themselves, so they only had to pay for the raw materials. The labour, of course, was mainly the Weasleys.
I do not begrudge them raiding the buffet table during the after party. They kind of deserve it.
The stand out for me was when I said I do, and Harry looked at me like I had just agreed to give him the world. It was touching, to be regarded that highly by someone, and it makes me want to be deserving of that much adoration. We have both grown and changed during the past five years, and I am sure we will continue to grow and change to be better into the future.
I am also sure we will know each other even more intimately, that no secrets will be kept between us, and we will love each other even more. If we decide to have children, they will be half werewolf, but we already have practice taking care of Teddy, so it should not be a problem.
Now, we are left with our honeymoon, the claiming, and the rest of our lives.
13 March 2004
It is done. I am finally, officially mated to him. Last night, he finally claimed me, with my consent, of course. These past five years of knowing I am his mate, two years of being in a relationship with him, and a couple months of being married to him, has made me realise that my life could be much worse: I could be in Azkaban; I could be in isolation; I could be jobless and homeless; I could be stuck with a prat who does not care about my family at all, especially since our fall from grace…
I have seen my mating to him as a blessing instead of a curse. Sure, I have to play nice with the Weasleys, but after a while, I find that they are not that bad, and Ronald has stopped bothering me since I wouldn’t rise up to his bait, and considering Harry has cared for my parents, it’s the least I could do, honestly.
And the fact that he is good in bed is a pleasant bonus.
I kind of expected our mating to be, you know, significant in a way; life-changing or enlightening. It wasn’t. It was just like any other moment I spent with him, and that was how I realised that I have fallen for the speccy git long before I agreed to be claimed. I guess falling head over heels for someone is not my style; I’m more the kind of person who falls so gradually that I didn’t even notice it.
This might be my last entry. I started writing in it as an outlet for my frustrations because no one would listen, and I couldn’t exactly complain or rant about Harry to him. Now, though, I can, so I have no need to continue writing in it.
You have certainly been a good, silent companion to me these past few years. You may now rest easy, knowing that I have more reasons to be thankful than to complain, and that I am finally content with my life.
And if my future self ever needs something to remind him of the reason why I am with the stupid wolf, he should reread the entries, and see what sacrifices Harry had made to make me happy.
PS. And he should also remember that I love him more than my own life, and would continue to do everything I can to make him happy. Love, Harry