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I'm worried.
Ever since Draco returned from Azkaban, he's been quiet. He's refused to speak about what happened.
He shrinks away from any kind of touch. He hardly eats, or speaks.
When he sleeps, he keeps the door locked...He refuses to let anyone in to wake him, even an elf. Not that anyone needs to wake him, he's up at dawn.
He spends most of his time alone outside. He likes the garden, though he used to hate it. I asked him why he'd been spending so much time out there and all he said was "it's alive". But aren't I alive too?
I'm afraid for him. I hear him screaming in the night...It hurts that he won't let me help him. His own wife...
Astoria set down her quill, running a shaking hand over her forehead. The words on the page blurred as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She closed her diary, locking it and stowing it in her dresser drawer. She then made her way slowly across her bedroom, pausing by the open window before sinking into the luxurious comfort of the large bed that, until two years ago, she had shared with her husband. She soon started to drift off, but no sooner had she closed her eyes than a scream pierced the chill winter air, making it seem even colder. Astoria shut her eyes tightly, her nails digging into the mattress as she tried to shut out the sound of her husband's screams. After last time she tried to help him....The screams slowly died off, gradually replaced by broken sobs. Astoria's eyes stung with the effort of holding back tears. A few still escaped, leaving wet trails on her face. All she could do was close her eyes and try to block out the sound. The same routine she'd gotten used to for nights in a row. Don't try to help. Don't bother mentioning it tomorrow. Don't feel anything. Just wait for it to be over.