picture in my mind

I've been thinking, and thinking so hard about whether I should blog, but then I realise I can't bring myself to. Not right now; maybe I will, on some other night. When I feel less like a bruised melon.

So instead I leave myself with this:

"You’re not bitter," he said. "He left you, too, and you’re not bitter. How do you manage that? Is it some Gryffindor thing I’ll never understand? I thought maybe," and he looked back down at his shoes, "maybe you didn’t care about him anymore."

"I do care," she said.

"But what if he isn’t worth it?"

She sighed. When she leaned back against the window, the glass was cold against her skin. “He is worth it. But even if he wasn’t, that wouldn’t mean I was wrong or foolish to love him, or that my loving him had been a mistake. We don’t love people because they deserve it. In the end what’s important is what that love says about you, that you’re capable of loving someone like that; most people aren’t capable of a tenth of that kind of real love, a hundredth of it. Most people would be terrified of it, if they could even imagine it. But you aren’t — you weren’t. You broke that bottle of antidote without thinking about it — ”

"Not entirely," said Draco, "without thinking about it."