The warm glow of the lamp over my shoulder cast me in a dull silhouette, made all the worse by the contrast of my body against the white sheets. I swi...ched off the bedside and flicked on the reading light mounted in the ceiling above my head. It was far too bright, and my insecurities ran rampant as my hands sub-consciously stroked my thighs. I snorted a smile. What did Adam call it? My flawless imperfections. God, I loved him. Holding onto that thought, I took a deep breath in through my nose,. Nobody did anything. And that must have hurt most of all. But who knew? Because he never said anything either.After he had died, Hermione had turned him into sort of an obsession. She had gone to Warwick University, near Coventry, and spent hours and hours buried in psychology papers and studies of childhood development. Finally, she had figured out what was wrong with him. He had reactive attachment disorder. And it made her want to kill the Dursleys. Because it was ultimately their fault he. More

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