seven days lost

Such an exaggerated word. "I spoke first, "I know you care about me." "

"You don't have to apologize to me." His face was obscured in the shadows.I lowered my head, and I noticed that his right hand was slightly raised, as if he wanted to hug me, but he immediately retracted it and put it in his pocket.

I looked up at him, trying to see something awkward in his eyes, but I saw nothing.

"I remember some really bad things." I looked him in the eyes. "My godfather died and I was sad. I was out of control."

"Potter, your mood has fluctuated too much these days, I suggest you take a good rest—"

"Aren't you comforting me?" I interrupted him, "I'm crying, I smashed everything in the room, do you think it's normal?"

"Potter..."

"Are all people with brain problems like this? Will they wantonly hurt the people around them?"

"No, you can't think like that, Potter—"

"I feel like I'm useless. I shouldn't be here. I should be alone."

Draco held out his hand to me, as if to put it on my shoulder, but pulled it back.Suddenly, an unreasonable anger rose in my heart, why didn't he want to touch me?Why can't he comfort me?He's disappointed in me too, isn't he?

I couldn't control my emotions anymore, and the more I restrained, the stronger I became.I looked at him, expecting him to say something, but why should I expect him to comfort me?Does this make any sense?What else could he say, tell me I'm going to be fine, don't be afraid?

"You don't need to worry too much, Potter, these are things that happen. This kind of treatment is not going to be smooth sailing, but it's not as bad as you think."

"That is to say, you are admitting what I said in disguise." I was extremely disappointed, "Why did I encounter these things?"

He bit his thin lower lip and didn't answer.

"Can you give me a hug?" I asked suddenly, so suddenly Draco looked up.I didn't feel embarrassed, but his eyes made me lose hope for an instant.

"Forget it, I'm sorry to disturb you so late." I said, turned my head and left, I thought he would not catch up, he was so reluctant to touch me, how could he catch me?

I stepped through the door as if flying, and ran towards the back door of the warehouse.Later I found out that I didn't have to run so fast at all, because he really didn't catch up.

The heart seemed to be sunk, excruciating pain and stillness.

I looked back at him for the last time, and the figure as straight as a gun stood in the darkness like a stone statue.I walked into the warehouse and slammed the door hard.

When I got back to the room, I turned off the light and took out the phone.For a moment I wanted to smash it to pieces, but what little sanity I had left made me give up.

What am I expecting.I can only rely on myself, what else can I do?

fourth day

The fourth day, June 6, the weather: sunny

I woke up this morning with a fever.I didn't realize this until later. At first, I just felt that my brain was heavy, my feet were floating, and I couldn't see clearly.I don't have an appetite for breakfast, I just nestle on the sofa and don't want to move.

Mrs. Weasley noticed something was wrong. She took my temperature and found that I had a fever of more than 38 degrees.

"You can rest in your room today, Harry! I'll bring you food."

I nodded, dizzy so I didn't want to say a word, I just wanted to sleep.I took some medicine and drank a lot of hot water, but I still felt very uncomfortable.

By the afternoon, my voice was hoarse and my lips were dry.I sat up. I had slept through the morning and didn't want to go any further.

Then I got a call, from my pocket.I don't know where this phone is from, I'm confused, but I press the answer button anyway.

"Hey?"

"Harry Potter? I'm Draco Malfoy, your therapist."

"Therapist? I don't have any therapist, are you lying?"

"No, I didn't lie to you. You have a diary under the bed, and you'll see it when you read it."

"Under the bed? What are you hiding under the bed? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm not hiding anything under the bed, I'm your therapist. You put that diary there yourself."

"Why should I trust you?"

The man paused, his voice a bit bitter: "Don't worry, Potter. I mean nothing... Also, I apologize for what happened yesterday."

I was stupefied, answered a few words casually and wanted to hang up the phone, but the other party suddenly asked again: "Are you cold?"

"I have a fever," I said.

"...Remember to wear more clothes."

"I will." After I finished speaking, I ended the call and continued to lie on the bed in a daze.I thought about it again, climbed out of bed with my drowsy body, and took out the box from under the bed according to his words.There was really a small black leather book lying reclined inside, as if someone had thrown it in angrily. The first page was flipped open, and my name was written on it.

I found a few rubber bands from the bedside table and planned to tie them up later, took them and sat back on the bed again, lying under the quilt.A patina-stained key fell out of the diary in the process, and I kept it with the rubber band.

I finished reading my diary.

Maybe it's because of the fever today, I was sloppy when I washed my face and didn't look at my face; Mrs Weasley didn't tell me what I went through, maybe she forgot.Doing the same thing day in and day out is tiresome, she probably cried a lot for me, and if that's the case, then I'm terribly guilty.I am really sorry.

But I still feel that this is like a fantasy, why do I suffer from this strange disease?I thought I was coming to live in the shabby for a while during the Christmas holidays, but now I find out that the view outside the window is clearly not winter but summer.I checked the date on the diary to confirm it.

Should I weep over this?Too much, but it's useless.I carefully read the things I wrote in my diary about my past, and I seem to have some senses. I know that they have existed in my mind, and the horseshoe imprints of their crushed nerves are still there. The initial pain has become flat and hard under the tempering of time.But when I touch it again—even now that these traces have all been erased—I can still feel the deep shock that those memories are real, those vibrations are real, and those tears are real.

Which one is the real me?

I suddenly felt that I was living in a false illusion.I was not who I really was at this time, I lost the memories that made me up, and my emotions became thin and shallow.It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Those whom I have forgotten will hate me, right?They were thus forgotten, as if all sacrifices had lost their way.

I wrote a diary for a while, tied the diary with a rubber band and put it under the pillow.

I suddenly remembered Draco's words, he said he wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday.I reopened the diary and read yesterday's content, feeling a little lost.In my opinion, he has nothing to apologize for. He came here to see me, but he has to deal with a patient's nonsense.He has nothing to apologize for.

I lay on the bed and fell asleep drowsily, and it was already evening when I woke up.I heard that someone seemed to be arguing downstairs, so I opened the door and walked towards the stairwell with the wall.

The quarrel gradually became louder, and I leaned against the wall and looked out.The light in the living room was a bit harsh, and I squinted my eyes.

To my surprise, it was Ron and Hermione who were arguing.It took me a long time to recognize them because they were so different from what I remembered.They had grown taller, Ron had grown a beard, and Hermione had matured a lot. She was no longer the disheveled girl with a dozen books in her schoolbag.

They seemed to be arguing about work at first, I heard them keep mentioning strange words such as "Ministry of Magic", "Director", "Minister", "Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters". on me-

"I don't understand, I have to worry about it every day... You don't know how much pressure I have!"

"Take it easy, Ron, I was just trying to persuade you—"

"I'll be in danger at any time... I can't sleep well at home... I really don't want to be an Auror anymore, and I have to be angry. If Harry is still—"

"Easy, Harry's still up there—"

"Oh! I know. Hermione, I don't know how much longer I'm going to take it, I've really had enough. And Harry, I really—he—"

"Shh!"

I stared blankly at them.Ron's voice finally became softer, and I couldn't hear it clearly.

What did he say?He said he had had enough of me, is that true? …He was right, too, that a never-ending patient like me was a very annoying thing, and it seemed nondescript to mix in their married life.I don't have any ability to live independently, I am their burden.Why do I give them so much trouble?

I stood there motionless, as if frozen.After a while, seeing that they were about to come upstairs, I turned around in panic, ran away, and ran back to my room in a panic.

I wrap myself in the blanket.I'm still sad.My best friend rejects me for my faults, but what can I do?I also don't want to get this disease and cause trouble for others.I cannot bring happiness to others.

Maybe I should be sent to the hospital.that's the best place for me