OWL POST: Eleanora Krum, Kiev, Ukraine Translated from the Bulgarian and written in increasingly messy penmanship.
Nono,
I don't know whom else to talk to about this—and don't suggest Marik because I don't want to. At least not yet. That's a conversation that will require a conversation before it about other things that perhaps I'm still angry about. Any matter, you'll keep your mouth shut to other people, I know. I trust you.
You can mock me later for being so damn maudlin and whingy. I just need to talk to someone. I've tried to deal with it by myself for too long and I don't know what to do anymore. Remember when I showed up on your doorstep after Isabella, and I was such a fucking bloody mess that you wouldn't let me leave until we'd had a good piss-up and I finally told you what was wrong? Right. Well, imagine we've had a piss-up. Hell, I might as well have. I've been through half a bottle of vodka since noon—I think, it might be more, I don't know--and I don't have any damn intention of stopping any time soon.
Things are…well. Not the best they've been, I suppose. With me and Ron. I don't even know where to start. The only part of it he's willing to acknowledge is the part that involves Potter. He's still in love with him; he told me that, not that I didn't already know. But he's always denied it before. Always told me I'm being mental when I suggested it, or that there's no way he could care about Potter after everything that's happened. And now…it's different. It's been for a while, I suppose, just under the surface. But lately things have happened that involve Lily and he's terrified he's going to lose her and I keep telling him there's no way Potter would allow that. He wouldn't. I don't like the bastard much, but he'd never do that to Ron. Even I can see that. ( But Ron…fuck. )
I don't know what to do. He'll be home in a few hours and I should be sober. Or at least pretend to be sober. I wonder if he'd notice the difference?
It's shit to be in love with someone who thinks they're in love with someone else, you know. The fuck of it is I'm pretty certain he's in love with me. Potter's just a what-if. But he's just too fucking obsessed to realise it.
I have to go, Nono. I think it's time to sit on the shower floor for half an hour.