The Diary (HP/DM)

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

My only hope
My only peace
My only joy
My only strength
My only power
My only life
My only love

----------------

CONTENT:

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

[PROLOGUE]

October was slowly fading as November already lurked around the corner. Outside, the leaves were falling from the trees, dancing on the heavy squalls. The Whomping Willow battered his branches at nobody. The ferral wind was cold and everyone preferred the warm and cozy castle to the grounds. In the distance, a pillar of smoke emerged from a chimney that came out of the roof of a small hut.
Behind the hut was the Forbidden Forest, its trees tall and threatening. The wind was loud and raging, throwing around everything that was detached.
The rough weather outside was a great contrast to the slumbering castle, where everyone was still fast asleep. Everyone, except the House-Elves that were busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The students and teachers were tucked safely in their beds, the thick walls serving as a sonic wall restraining the noise of the wind. Even the portrets were silent and the ghosts were floating around peacefully, not even Peeves was an exception to this.
In one of the many towers, a dark-haired boy opened his eyes. He opened the curtains around his four-poster bed and frisked his beside table for his round glasses. When he had found them, he put the cold metal on his nose. His hand went back to the bedside table to retrieve his watch, but to his surprise, he couldn’t find it. He was about to do a second inspection when he realised that he had left the thing in his trunk the night before. Cursing himself silently, he took a deep breath and threw the cover off his body. He got out of his bed and hurried towars his trunk, opening it in one swift movement. He grabbed his watch and crawled back into his bed. Despite the hot fires and the comfortable warmth, it was no pleasure to be out of his soft, inviting bed. He often wondered if House-Elves didn’t put glue in it during the day, when the students were at their classes, unaware of what happened in their dormitories.
He was relieved to see that it was only six o’clock. Why had he woken up this early? He was a bit irritated – he knew that once he woke up, it was hard for him to get back to sleep. He drew a hand through his entangled hair and decided to stay in bed for a little while.
The boy with the red hair and the giant nose next to him was still snoring the morning away. He couldn’t help but feel jealous at his best friend and his ease to sleep. Lately, he found it hard to reach the land of dreams and if he did fall asleep, he had a far from peaceful night. Nightmares hunted him and the images were horrible to say the least. He could never put a finger on what exactly happened in those dreams, as he only saw flashes of a pale, pointed face with fine bones and lank, white blonde hair. He recognised the face, but he didn’t manage to put a name on it.
He hadn’t told his best friends Ron and Hermione about these dreams because he knew that they couldn’t do anything to help him. He didn’t want to worry him with things that might as well be purely innocent.
To his great relief, today was Saturday. Not just a regular Saturday, no, today was the first visit to Hogsmeade of the entire year. He looked forward to having fun with his friends and do a bit of shopping. Fred and George had given him some tips that he would explore to a full extent at Zonko’s Joke Shop and his taste buds couldn’t wait for a visit to Honeydukes. They would all have a tasty butter beer at The Three Broomsticks and finally, they would take Hermione to Gladrags Wizardwear – she had been wanting to go since their third year but they had always found that time was a crazy, uncontrollable thing that went too fast when you needed it. Zonko’s and Honeyduke’s were just too interesting to leave behind too soon, but this time the two boys had sworn they would go there with Hermione.
‘Harry? Are you awake?’ a voice asked softly.
‘Yes,’ Harry answered, not recognising who it was instantly. The curtains of one of the other beds flew open and Neville’s face appeared.
‘Are you going to Hogsmeade?’ Neville sounded desperate and Harry wondered if his classmate wanted him to go or to stay.
‘Yes,’ he answered.
‘Oh,’ was the only reply he got. Neville sounded extremely disappointed.
‘Is something wrong, Neville?’ Harry asked.
‘I want to go as well, but grandma won’t let me. She says I haven’t worked hard enough for school during the holidays. But I can only make the homework that I’ve got, can’t I, Harry?’
‘Of course not,’ Harry answered. ‘Do you want me to bring you anything from Honeydukes or Zonko’s?’
‘That would be great. Thanks, Harry.’
‘No problem,’ Harry answered. ‘You can give me a list later.’
He sighed. He was still figuring out how he would be able to get away from Ron and Hermione to pay a visit to Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop without them knowing it. Ron wouldn’t rest without knowing why on Earth Harry felt the need to buy a diary if he had such close friends to talk to.

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

I know this chapter is rather descriptive, but there will be action in this story. Thanks for your reaction, Mirmana! It means a lot to me.

[CHAPTER I]

[HARRY] - The Great Hall was decorated with floating pumpkins, carved with wicked faces. There were hundreds of live bats flying around and the pumpkin juice seemed to be even more delicious than usual – but of course, that could also be a game of the mind.
Harry pretended to be carefree and looking forward to a day in the nearest village, but inside he was tearing himself up. He didn’t feel this nervous before a Quidditch match, so what was going on? Was it such a big deal that he had to escape from his friends to pay a visit to the shop? Couldn’t he just take them, tell them he needed some new quills and quickly grab a diary from the shelves without them noticing it?
No, he couldn’t. Because Hermione’s talent for observation was downright scary, she’d notice immediately – Ron would be so bored he’d just take an uninterested look at everything. It was also possible, however, that Hermione would get so engrossed with the items in the store that she didn’t have eyes for anything else, but that Ron would follow Harry’s every step and tell him to hurry up, that this was useless and they might as well spend more time in Zonko’s or Honeydukes.
Harry was so caught up in the wanderings of his mind that he didn’t notice their classmates joining them. He thought he had a heart attack when Ron shouted in his ear to “wake up, foghead”.
‘Thanks again, Harry,’ Neville whispered sincerely as he passed the dark-haired boy. He looked around to make sure that nobody saw him and slipped a small piece of parchment inside Harry’s pockets. Harry nodded to indicate he was aware of the list in his pocket.
‘I think it’s stirred by now,’ Hermione said suddenly.
Harry looked up from his bowl, confused. ‘What? What do you mean?’
‘Your porridge,’ Hermione replied. ‘Is something wrong? You seem so… absent-minded.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ Harry lied. What point was there in sharing feelings he didn’t understand himself?
‘Are you sure? You’ve barely eaten any breakfast, if any at all. All you’ve done is just move your spoon… Of course I don’t mean you have to be a glutton like Ron over here, but you know what I mean.’
‘I’m just not hungry today,’ Harry shrugged. He felt terrible about not telling the truth – he knew that of all people, Hermione was a girl he could trust. Together with Ron, they had been through so much and had dealt with more than your average teenager, but this time it seemed different. This time, he didn’t understand what was happening and why he was feeling this anxious, but he also knew that it had nothing to do with magic. Not with the magic they teach you at Hogwarts, anyway. In this case, Ron couldn’t be surprised that Harry had never heard of it and Hermione couldn’t have read it in a book. He felt something so odd that it was hard to describe. He felt something so overwhelming that it changed his behaviour, his way of thinking, his priorities… his whole being. The funniest about this all was that these feelings came together and smashed him down mercilessly whenever he saw him… whenever he saw Draco Malfoy.
For as long as he could remember, he had loathed this wizard. He had loathed him because he was a spoilt brat that was vicious and mean to everyone not belonging in Slytherin and to Gryffindors in particular, he had loathed him because he always used his surname to get whatever he want and he had loathed him because in most cases, he got what he wanted. There was also the fact that it seemed to be his only goal to make Harry’s life a living hell and to taunt him. It had been so logical to reciprocate those feelings, but lately, things seemed to have changed. Harry didn’t quite understand why or how. He wanted to find out, but first, he felt he needed to make up his mind about this all. He had read somewhere that the best way to figure your feelings out is write them down and reread them over and over again until you see clarity in the mess. He wasn’t convinced that he would somehow get a revelation, but it was worth a try, right?

#

[DRACO] - At the Slytherin table, a blonde haired boy was staring at his plate. The sausages hadn’t been touched and his can of pumpkin juice was filled to the top.
‘Arj youw havving that, Dwaco?’ Goyle asked, his mouth still filled with his own meal. Draco snorted in disgust and shrugged. Why did his compagnions have to be such gobblers – all the time. He chuckled wistfully at the irony of this morning. In the Great Hall, all students seemed to be content, most of them looking forward to a trip to Hogsmeade. A humming sound filled the hall, the ceiling was bright-blue, there was no cloud to be spotted. The decorations for the feast of that night were ready and in the distance, he heard a cheer and laughter. Even his rarely exuberant Housemates seemed to be in a cheerful mood. Everyone except him.
He looked up and his gaze went to the Gryffindor table automatically. That happened a lot lately, too much. Worryingly much. He didn’t know what was going on with him, but whenever he saw Harry Potter his stomach turned. Well, of course that was something that happened as long as he could remember – the sight of this bloke used to give him the urge to gag. Now, however, things were different. Potter was a teenager, so that meant that was changing a lot in appearance. Last year he had seemed only a boy, but over the summer he seemed to have grown five years older. He looked so much more mature and it seemed like life had etched him. Something Draco could relate to. He snorted once again. Everyone always thought he had the perfect life and to a certain extent, he had. His parents gave him everything he asked for, he lived in a big mansion with all the luxury imaginable and he never had to dream about anything for too long – someone would always get it for him. His father’s influence reached far and he had many contacts. Most teachers gave into him out of freight for losing their jobs. He was a pure-blood and therefore he never had to fear anything. On top of that, he had tons of admirers. Boys wanted to be his friend and he was invited to all parties. If he showed up, the person throwing the party was tagged as “cool”. If he felt like having a girlfriend, he just had to snap his finger. They all wanted him, they all begged for his attention. Of course there were exceptions to that, but what did he care? There were plenty other fishes in the sea. He was sixteen and healthy and if he felt like having a little adventure, he could always find a girl that was happy to please him… in every way.
And still he would swap lives immediately of someone asked him to. Because the boys that wanted to be his friends weren’t real friends. If his name had not been Malfoy they wouldn’t have looked at him the same. Back in the days, it never bothered him. Fact had been that they looked up to him and that had been enough. But when he looked at Potter and his friends… it was something he did miss in his life. He would never admit that to anyone, but it was the truth. Sometimes he wished he had someone he could just talk to about what was going on in his life, how he was feeling. Someone that appreciated him for who he was and not for who the people surrounding him were. It confused him that he felt this need, because he had never felt it before. He had always been fine, things had been great the way they were.
Without realising it, he was still staring at the Gryffindor table. His heart missed a beat when the scarred boy looked right into his eyes. He returned this look with a deathly stare, even tough it hurt very deep inside. Blood was pumping in his ear as the green eyes seemed to look right through his harnas of coldness, right through the thick walls he had set around his soul. His imagination was being overactive once again – as if he was some freaking Ravenclaw.

Why did he want friends? Real, honest, sincere friends? Why did he want someone to talk about that good-looking bloke over there, looking right through him? Why did he even did as much as think he was good-looking? Whereas Harry Potter’s deeds always had seemed to be over-heroic to him, he felt a deep respect since the beginning of this year for this boy. Being noble gets you nowhere, that’s what he had been taught. Potter always claimed to be noble. Well, the people that admired him said he was; the words had never left the dark-haired boy’s mouth. They were both major persons within their own entourage. They were admired, looked upon… and they both knew that there were also people that were jealous at them, and people that hated them. Draco’s following hated Harry, Harry’s following loathed Draco. And for so long, Harry and Draco had hated each other’s guts… so why were his feelings changing? What had caused all of this?
He needed to talk to someone about this all, someone that would help him see some sort of light in this confronting darkness… but he had nobody. So he had decided that during their first trip to Hogsmeade, he would buy a diary at Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. He would write it all down and protect this book with all spells he knew. Wasn’t it sad that his only friend would not exist of flesh and blood, but of parchment and ink?

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

Mirmana and Aya, thanks a lot for your reactions! They mean a lot to me and it's just good to know some people are reading your story. Thanks for the support!

[CHAPTER II]

[HARRY] - After breakfast, Harry went to the common room to get ready for the day. He was accompanied by Ron and Hermione, who both were looking forward to the day, each for his own reasons.
Ron, as always, couldn’t wait to see what Honeydukes had to offer him and his taste buds. He was also keen on being fascinated by Zonko’s new stuff.
Hermione looked so pleased upon the prospect of paying a visit to Gladrag’s Wizardwear that one would think it was her wedding day.
They reached the entrance to the common room. The Fat Lady yawned and asked the password sleepily.
‘Mimbultus,’ Hermione said, toppling on her feet impatiently.
‘How d’you know there’s a new password?’ Ron asked in the amazed tone he used with Hermione all the time. Mostly, he just didn’t understand how that girl could possible know so much.
‘I have my ways, Ron,’ Hermione said in a mysterious voice.
‘Women, they don’t ever get straight to the point,’ Ron muttered under his breath. ‘They’re all the same.’
Hermione had heard him tough. ‘Well, I must disagree with you. I don’t think…’ she frowned her eyebrows, but for the rest her facial expression didn’t change very much, as she always looked like she was thinking. ‘I think Lavender Brown, for instance, is someone rather… direct,’ she said smugly.
Ron looked startled and before he could answer, Hermione had entered the common room.
‘Wha -’ Ron looked bewilderd. ‘What was that?’ he asked in a high voice.
Harry couldn’t help but to laugh at his friends’ antics. He walked in after Hermione and saw that she had went straight to her dormitory. He made a beeline for his own dormitory, followed by Ron. He couldn’t grab his stuff soon enough. He just wanted the day to be over, with a diary in his trunk.

The wind was still ice cold and the students had a hard time moving forward. Scarfs, gloves, highly raised collars… nothing helped. They were freezing to the bone, but were still hurrying. With this weather, The Three Broomsticks would be packed soon enough and not many people felt like going to the Hog’s Head.
‘Come on, hurry,’ Ron said impatiently. He turned around and walked back to Hermione, who was ploughing through the snow. Her teeth were clappering and toothmarks were etched in her bottom lip. She sniffed a lot and it didn’t seem to help. She looked downright terrible.
‘Look, I can’t take this anymore. You’re way colder than is good for you and at this tempo, we’ll never get at The Three Broomsticks in time and we’ll have to sit in Madam Puddifoot’s!’
He bent trough his knees and picked Hermione up in one swift movement.
‘Ron!’ she shrieked as she hadn’t expected this. ‘Put me down!’
Ron didn’t listen to her and started walking again. He seemed very determined. ‘Trust me, Hermione, you will thank me later that you didn’t have to sit amongst those filthy Slytherins at The Hog’s Head.’
An inexplicable urge to have Ron on the carpet for that statement went through Harry. He shook his head and pulled his hands even further down his pockets.
He tried to push the thoughts that were filling his head away. He tried not to bother whether Malfoy would be going or not. He wouldn’t even see him in the crowded shops – who would want to walk outside? – and Ron an Hermione would never agree to go to the Hog’s Head. Why did he even want to see Malfoy? Like he cared…
His fingers touched the piece of parchment Neville had slipped in his pocket and he made a note to himself not to forget to get Neville’s stuff.
Harry had been so far away in thought he hadn’t noticed they had reached the small village. Ron put Hermione back on the ground – who was very grateful for that. His red-haired best friend now practically ran to the local pub. A few minutes later, it appeared that that hadn’t been such a bad idea. Only a lost table in a far corner was still available.
‘I’ll go get us some drinks at the counter. I don’t think Madam Rosmerta or any waiters will notice us back here.’
‘I bet that is your greatest concern,’ Hermione replied. Harry couldn’t help but notice how she sounded a bit sourely – almost as if it truly bothered her.
‘What d’you mean?’ Ron asked astonished. He shook his head in confusion when Hermione didn’t answer but instead looked away. He then tried to make a beeline for the counter.
When he had disappeared, Hermione was still silent. Harry didn’t really know how to handle this, so he decided he might as well try and take her mind off of whatever was bothering her.
‘So, we’re in Hogsmeade. Finally. I was so looking forward to this trip.’
‘Me too,’ Hermione smiled. ‘I really hope we’ll make it to Gladrags Wizardwear.’ She then frowned and added a bit insecurely: ‘I do hope Ron doesn’t waste too much time at Zonko’s. He’s seen the shop enough, we visit it everytime we come here.’
‘It will be my personal mission to make sure we get to do everything we planned,’ Harry reassured her.
Ron came back, trying to hold three butterbeers and barely succeeding in this task. Harry stood up quickly to help him and save his friend another trip through the thick-crowded pub. They all sat down and drank silently. Harry hadn’t felt this safe in a very long time. It was warm inside and the pub was merrily decorated. Diluted voices of the excited people around him reached his ears and the general atmosphere was one of anticipation and happiness. He was with his best friends that had gone such a long road with him. This was one of those moments to look back at years gone and realise his luck ever since he had got away from the Dursleys.
But lately, he had been wondering more and more what would have happened had he chosen a different path. If he had accepted Malfoy’s offer when they were eleven-year-old boys, would he have ended up being his best friend? Would they be friends when their ideas were so different on every level? Would the Sorting Hat have put him in Slytherin? Harry would have probably wanted to be in the same House of his new found friend and there would not have been a Ron Weasley to tell him how awesome Gryffindor was and how Slytherin brought forth nothing but dark wizards? If he had ended up in Slytherin, would he be a different person now, in his fifth year? Would his thoughts on so many subjects been different? Would he turn into a dark wizard himself? The questions were pondering him. What if he had felt this strange connection to Draco Malfoy all those years ago? How different would his life now be? It just seemed unthinkable to not be bothered by the white-haired boy’s presence until only last school year… so why was it different now?
Why did his stomach turn into a knot everytime he felt the gaze of those stone cold eyes on him? Why did the lack of mockery and bullying on Draco’s part make him feel this uncomfortable, this tense? He had always been irritated by these things, but they just happened. It was something regular in his life, it was something self-evident. Now his unruly life had become even more insecure. His worst enemy left him alone, almost as if he didn’t care enough anymore. Why did it sting, in a way? Wasn’t it ridiculous to think that because Draco had always taunted him, it at least meant he was thinking of him? Why did these thoughts, almost wishes, come to him now? He had never felt like this before.
‘Harry!’ Ron almost shouted. Harry woke up from his day dream and looked around in a confused matter. Slowly, he was coming back from that strange realm his mind was and returned to his friends, the pub, the people. He could only wish that these questions would linger in that realm, but they seemed to chose to come along with him.
‘What is it?’
‘Merlin’s beard, what have you been on? We’re trying to wake you for hours!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘We’ve got to hurry,’ Hermione added, a worried expression etched on her face. ‘We still have so many visits to make! We’re never going to make it at the rate we’re going…’
Harry immediately thought about what he had planned on doing today. Buying that diary was almost admitting he didn’t trust his friends, whilst trust was so important to him. He wanted to postpone it, not make it happen – and that lied entirely in his power. He knew, however, that if he came back without the diary he would regret it and waiting for a next visit would be agony.
‘You needn’t worry, Hermione. You know what, we’ll go to Gladrags first,’ Harry proposed.
Hermione’s face lit up entirely. ‘That would be great!’ She jumped up and hugged Harry from behind.
‘Come on, let’s go. What are we waiting for?’ Ron said, suddenly hurried. In a flash, he was up and already heading for the door. Hermione looked like a child that was about to go to the candy store.
Harry sighed and tried to get his mind off of Draco Malfoy. Instead, he decided to concentrate on what lied ahead. He put a fake smile on and went after his friends, who were already waiting for him in the cold outside.

#

[DRACO] - At last, Draco had been able to get rid off the two buffoons Crabbe and Goyle were. His feet were buried in the still falling snow. He looked up at the sign that was hanging right above the door. The ancient looking letters told him he was about to enter Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. He pulled his busby over his ears to protect them from the icy wind. He shivered, not knowing if it was because of the cold or because of what he was about to do.
Going in here to purchase the diary was admitting his feelings – even though he couldn’t exactly put his finger on them. It was admitting that something was going on. He hesitated again. Wasn’t it so that if he bought a diary, he would be more enclined to think about this all? Wouldn’t it be harder to get his mind off of it if he had a booklet hidden in his trunk, protected with all sorts of charms, where it was all written down?
Deep down, however, he knew that it didn’t matter if he had a diary or not, his mind would always wander back to Potter. Granted, it was something he wanted to prevent, but it didn’t look like that was going to work. So he might as well write it down and try to see clarity in the mess.
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A bell clang and it was as if it heralded a new chapter in the life of Draco Malfoy.
He didn’t greet the shop owner or even acknowledged him. He had never been here before – if he needed some new quills and parchment, he would always ask his parents to send him. That way he was certain of the quality of the material.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ an old, shabby-looking man asked in a quivering voice. Draco curled his lip haughtily as this was a sign that the old man felt that Draco was not a regular boy. He casted a mocking look in the direction of the man, as if daring him to repeat his question.
‘Well – er – if you need anything, you can call me, er…’ the man seemed to feel a little lost at this encounter and he disappeared behind the shelves, probably going back to his counter.
Draco felt anxious. This place seemed to be a portal between his old life and his new one. Coming in here was for the first time admitting feelings he didn’t understand but knew he wasn’t supposed to have. His hands went over all sorts of booklets. He could have just taken the first object he saw, but this was so significant to him that he wanted to make a good choice.
He lost track of time as he was looking around, searching for the book that would be worthy of his deepest inner feelings.
He froze when he heard the door open and the bell ring. He tried to recompose himself – what was wrong with being in this shop? It is not as if anyone would immediately say ‘Merlin’s beard! Draco Malfoy is buying a diary! He must be in love with Potter!’
His heart skipped a beat. It was the first time those exact words had flashed through his head, had come into mind. All his thoughts were related to that, but never like this…
Admitting this to himself was a huge thing. It was some sort of relief to put a name to the feeling, but it was also scary. It was scary because he had never experienced it, certainly never on this scale. And just the person he was in love with… it was so impossible. So immensely never-happening. Not even in another life would this love be reciprocated.
He could barely prevent the tears welling up in his eyes and he felt sick at the pit of his stomach. It just couldn’t be – it could never be. It was impossible, it wasn’t supposed to be. He tried his very best to keep a calm appearance, but panic was rising inside his chest, an awful monster gnawing all his self-confidence and cold, indifferent façade.
He heard the old man speaking the same words to the new client. When he heard the voice of this person, he almost fainted.
‘No, thank you, sir.’
Was it a dream? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he imagining things? Potter could not possibly be in here! Draco quickly hid behind a shelf in the back of the store and peeked around it to confirm his crazy thoughts. It was indeed the scarred boy that had been haunting his dreams – day and night. It was this boy that caused him to feel so confused, to feel so unlike himself. He felt how he was becoming a different person and he wasn’t sure if he wanted that. Being the old Draco was easier by far. He never had to explain anything, not to others and not to himself. What he did was the right thing, because he was Draco Malfoy. Nobody was stupid enough to stand up against him, not if they were in his near environment. He couldn’t care less about those Gryffindors that thought they were brave and noble and indispensable for the world.
He watched Potter walking around, a frantic expression on his face. He walked around rather hurriedly, taking something from the shelves every now and then and placing it back. He was clearly in a hurry.
Draco noticed how the only things he grabbed were diaries, books… why? Why did Harry need a diary? Didn’t he and his friends always tell each other everything? They probably told each other how they felt drinking a certain tea… so why would this bloke need a diary?
Again, the Slytherin’s eyes were drawn to Potter’s body. It was masculine, not too muscular but certainly not frail. He had this strong aura over him, protecting and reassuring. Draco could see all that in spite of the anxious state the dark-haired wizard was in.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Harry’s voice sounded. ‘Can you help me? I need a diary and I am in a hurry.’
‘Of course.’ Draco heard footsteps and again the voice of the old man. ‘This diary absorbs everything you write in it. It can only be read by the soul that completely understands your feelings and would never be a threat to you. It can only be read by your soulmate.’
Draco watched Harry’s face intently. He seemed to be doubting a bit, looked at his watch and nodded.
‘Yes, I’ll take this one.’
Draco didn’t know what to do. Would he appear and make his presence known? In a way, he felt the need to do that. He knew Potter had bought a diary and that was excellent black mail material. Harry seemed anxious and he looked like he really didn’t want to be her. Like I feel, Draco thought. He shook his head and straightened up. With a haughty expression on his face, he strode forwards.
‘Well, well… if it isn’t our all-time favourite hero Potter,’ he said with all the coldness he possessed in his voice.
Harry pretended not to notice him, something that hurt Draco deeply. It would always be like this… Harry Potter would ignore him or make clear he hated him.
‘I see you’ve bought yourself a diary. Strange, I daresay… don’t you have two friends you share everything with? Two friends with whom you love to discuss with how your pumpkin juice makes you feel?’
‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, Malfoy,’ Harry said sternly. He didn’t even look up and was already heading for the door. Draco quickly ran after him and blocked the way out.
‘Do your friends know about this? I bet they don’t.’
‘What do you care?’
Well, that was a good question. What did he care? Deep down he knew that it was silly, but somehow Harry buying a diary meant his friendship wasn’t that perfect, that he didn’t tell them everything. He thought it must be a very interesting dark secret if he felt he couldn’t confide in the two persons that had stood by his side for so long… Draco forced himself to get back to reality. He snorted and grabbed the diary out of Potters hands.
‘I wonder what is going to be written down here. Probably something silly.’
‘If it really is that silly, why are you interested?’ Harry snapped. ‘I suggest you get a life, Malfoy. I could also ask you what you are doing here alone? Is this place worthy for you to get your stuff? And who even says I’m buying a diary?’
‘I heard you asking for it.’ The words had left his mouth before he knew it. He felt like kicking himself for his stupidity.
Harry frowned his eyebrows. ‘So you were eavesdropping on me?’
‘No, I wasn’t,’ Draco snarled. ‘I heard it by coincidence.’
‘I bet you did. So, where are your friends? You’re here alone as well… what have you got to hide?’
‘I’ve got nothing to hide that is any of your business.’
‘For once, that makes two of us.’
Draco was getting the feeling that he was stuck. He was trapped in this situation and at any other time, he would have just walked way. This time, however, he couldn’t. The close proximity of Potter was so endearing, he just had to extend his hand… but he couldn’t. His eyes darted to the other boy’s lips and he knew that all he had to do was take one step forward. One step forward and Harry would know and probably tell everyone to hear how Draco Malfoy was a filthy faggot and had tried to kiss him. Draco was focusing so hard on Harry’s lips that the rest of the world didn’t matter anymore. His eyes wandered up to Harry’s. His breath caught when he saw the brilliant green behind the glasses. He was taken rudely back to the real world by Harry’s words.
‘Get out of the way. I haven’t got all day.’
Draco felt somewhat disappointed. There had been a tension between them and now Harry pretended not to have felt it. To him, that was plain impossible. He must have felt something transpire between them, right?
He threw the book back at Harry, turned around and opened the door to disappear in the snow. He sighed heavily, never looking back. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided not to go and look for Crabbe and Goyle. He needed to be alone with his frozen tears, with his sickening fears. It was already an hour and much heartache later that it dawned upon him that he still hadn’t bought his diary. He went back to the shop, grabbed a diary and threw it on the counter. He paid without a word and walked out again, back towards the castle. Everybody would be in Hogsmeade anyway. He hoped a long soak in the Prefect’s Bathroom would carry away some of the pain and worries he felt.

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

Lix, thanks for your comment in the topic! Other readers, feel free to comment in the topic or send me a pm. I appreciate constructive criticism as well :')

[CHAPTER III]

[HARRY] - Harry sighed defeatedly and dropped his head on the open book in front of him. The letters were swimming in front of his eyes, forming new, non-existant words. He was tired and his head ached, but he had to get this homework done by the morning.
He often wondered how it was possible that the professors could invent so many items to give homeworks about, and even more, how it was possible that they could invent such boring items. Harry was sure there were so many more interesting things in the wizarding world than the countless Wizarding Conventions all those centuries ago.
The library was dimly lit, just enough to be able to read and write. The large windows showed the darkness outside, the moon peering from behind a cloud, looking down at a seemingly peaceful world.
Harry Potter was far from peaceful. His inner turmoil was beginning to take it’s toll on him. He didn’t sleep very much and his appetite was close to none. He kept brooding on the changes in his life, trying to find out what it was exactly that made him feel so uneasy. He knew that some would call it hormones, but there wasn’t any girl that piqued his interest. There were some of them that seemed more than willing to go out with him, but they just seemed so shallow to them. When he heard parts of their conversations with their friends as they froliced through the corridors of the immense castle, he wondered if there was really nothing more in life than the newest fashionable robes.
He knew that Hermione was aware that he hadn’t been himself lately, but he didn’t talk about it. She wouldn’t understand – she couldn’t, she was a girl. She had brought it up a few times already, but Harry had dismissed it. She didn’t pry and he appreciated that, but he knew that she wouldn’t just sit back and see him growing more silent every day.
Ron was completely ignorant to his friends’ worries. He ranted about the hard classes and the piles of homework, he was excited about Quidditch and never forgot to update his best friend on what was going on with the Cambridge Cannons. In a way, it was a relief to Harry to push his thoughts to the back of his head and just join in the light conversation. It also bothered him, however, that Ron didn’t seem to notice anything at all. They had known each other long enough by now and sometimes he wondered if his red-haired friend didn’t just pretend he had no clue. Everyone knew that emotions were a rather complex thing for Ron to understand, even more so than other boys.
Whenever he saw that piercing look Hermione gave him, guilt overwhelmed him and his cheeks flushed. He knew she had a right to know what was going on, she had always been there for him and she would do everything to help. The point was, Harry knew that he would never be able to explain his feelings and therefore, Hermione couldn’t give him any advice.
His thoughts had brought him so far he hadn’t noticed the presence in front of his library table. His heart missed a beat when he heard someone clearing his throat to gain his attention. He looked up in the grey, cold eyes of Draco Malfoy and there it was again – the jolt his stomach made.
‘If it isn’t Potter,’ Malfoy said in a sneering tone. ‘Mind if I sit down?’
Without awaiting an answer, Malfoy pulled the chair opposite Harry from under the table and shifted in a comfortable position. Harry found himself to have a hard time sounding harsh and reluctant.
‘Actually, I do,’ he said shortly. ‘What are you doing here? Never thought you knew where this place was.’
‘It may surprise you, Potter, but I have got homework to do.’
Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘Really. That explains the absence of your bag, parchment, quill, a book… basically everything you need to make homework. And doesn’t daddy make sure you pass every year anyway?’
‘I have pride, you know. I am brilliant so I am not going to be last of class. And why should I justify my actions to you?’
Harry closed his eyes briefly. As if his headache wasn’t bad enough, Malfoy was on his way to make it worse. ‘What are you doing here? Are you seriously so pathetic and friendless that you have to come all the way to the library just to bully me?’
‘You’ve got a big mouth, Potter. Why would you want me to leave anyway?’
‘Because I hate you and you hate me.’
For a moment there, Harry could have sworn he saw Malfoy flinch, but he shrugged it off. It was probably nothing, just a trick of his mind.
‘I would think you have something to hide. What book have you got there? Wusses in the Wizarding World? How to Love a Lad?’
Harry felt his face flush and cursed himself for it. ‘Just because those are in your top ten of favourite books doesn’t mean everyone reads them.’
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t put the blame on me. I’ve noticed you have never been with a girl, Potter. Strange, I bet there are enough of them swooning over you.’
‘First of all, what do you care? Secondly, are you following me around or something? Have you set some spies on me to watch my every step? How would you know with how many girl’s I’ve been? For all you know, I’m getting it on every night with another one.’
Harry saw Malfoy had to gather all he had in him to keep himself in control. ‘As if I would believe that. There aren’t that many girls in Gryffindor. And the good looking ones… well, they don’t seem to exist.’
‘So now you’re checking out Gryffindors?’
‘What!? Of course not! You… you…’ Malfoy’s face was red of anger and he was looking for a word that would be spiteful enough.
‘Boys, would you keep it down? This is a library, and in the libr-’
Neither of them had heard the thin, vulture-like madam Pince coming there way.
‘Oh, shut up, woman!’ Draco snarled, clearly bothered by the interruption.
The old librarian was clearly shocked. ‘Mister Malfoy!’ she exclaimed in her high-pitched voice. ‘I will not be spoken to in this tone! I will discuss this with professor Dumbledore. Your punishment follows later.’
‘Whatever,’ Draco muttered.
Harry had used the time of madam Pince’s short lecture to gather his stuff and he stood up. ‘Don’t worry about noise, I’m leaving already.’
He left the library without looking behind. As he was walking back to Gryffindor Tower, he wondered why in Merlin’s name Malfoy had showed up there? For one, how had he known that he was in the library? Why had he wasted his time with coming over there to taunt him when he could have been doing something more useful? The words echoed through his head… I’ve noticed you’ve never been with a girl Potter. Since when was Malfoy interested in his love life? Strange, I bet there are enough of them swooning over you.
Harry tried to find a reason behind these odd statements – odd because of the person who had spoken them. Frankly, I haven’t seen him with a girl either… and he sure enough has a whole bunch throwing themselves at him. Maybe he is just too wicked to actually harbor some truly romantic feelings for anyone, Harry thought to himself.
Why did that thought bother him, sting him? He didn’t have the chance to think this through, because the moment he had reached the common room and entered it, Hermione was right in front of him, exclaiming her worry at where he had been. Harry had forgotten to mention his visit to the library, something Hermione always accompanied him on.

#

[DRACO] - Cursing, Draco walked back to the dungeons. What had he been thinking anyway? Why did he have to go and talk to that Potterboy? Not only had he made a complete fool of himself, there was that bloody madam Pince on top of it. He probably had to do some useless chores in that fusty place as a punishment now. It was something his father wouldn’t and couldn’t interfere in. Lucius had always thought that if his son got punished, he must have deserved it.
He reached the common room and went straight to the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. It was rather late in the evening and a lot of the students had gone to bed already.
Draco had an important Transfiguration test the following day, but he hadn’t been able to put his head to it. His thoughts kept going to that damn Potter. Earlier, after dinner in the Great Hall, he had seen him going to the stairs and decided to follow him discreetly. He still didn’t know why, but he had felt the undeniable urge to do so. He had to know where the dark-haired wizard was heading.
When he had wandered off to the library later, he hadn’t really expected to find his scarred enemy to still be there. Unconsciously, he had only went there with that hope. He wasn’t ready to admit that to anyone, tough, and especially not to himself.
‘Malfoy, where’ve you been?’ Zabini asked, letting himself fall besides Draco on the large couch. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere. Stephanie wants to talk to you.’
‘What is it now?’ Draco asked irritatedly, glad to avoid the first question.
‘I don’t know, she looked a bit distressed. Have you guys been fighting again?’
‘She just… she drives me crazy. She doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t want to be with her. We kissed once and that was it. She’s making too much drama.’
‘I’m sorry to hear, man. Girls just equal drama. That’s why guys are the better friends – when we have a problem, we have a fight and it’s okay again. Girls, they just keep on whining about every little detail and they seem to have this weird code of what you can’t and can do.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Draco muttered.
Zabini seemed to be in one of his talking moods. ‘I mean, I don’t understand that thing where they can’t go out with the ex of their friend? If everyone would stick to that, we’d all have to be alone for the rest of our lives!’
‘Yeah.’ Draco hoped Zabini wouldn’t notice he was rather quiet that night.
‘So, how are you gonna handle Stephanie?’
‘I don’t know, just tell her the truth, I guess. I just hope she’s not one of those girls you need to break up twice with.’ Draco groaned and threw his head back. ‘This is completely ridiculous. There isn’t anything to break up in the first place!’
‘You know, last summer I went to Greece with my family. There was this girl, Alessandra, and she was really fun and hot and we had a really great time, but in the end she didn’t seem to understand that I didn’t want to stay there with her. I had to break up three times, I swear, the girl would not take a hint.’
‘Whoever invented romantic stories is an idiot. Now all those girls expect us to behave like gentlemen and crawl at their feet. I have better things to do than working my ass of just to get some girl in my bed.’
To Draco, the words sounded like they were spoken by somebody else. The truth was that he did not only have better things to do than that, but he just wasn’t that interested. The only reason he made out with girls was that it was a normal thing to do for a boy his age. If he didn’t do it, people would start talking and he didn’t feel like being in the middle of a rumor mill. He didn’t want to be the subject of discussion if people weren’t discussing all the advantages of being friends with Draco.
‘I hear you, man,’ Zabini agreed. ‘Anyway, I’m gonna try and get some sleep. I don’t care about that Transfiguration test but McGonagall is capable of substracting points from Slytherin if we take a nap instead.’
Draco nodded and sighed. He got up from the couch and accompanied Zabini to the dormitory. He waited until his friend was asleep, took his recently purchased diary, a quill and ink from his trunk and went back to the common room. He sat down at a table in the corner and started writing.

Diary,

I am a fool, a complete and utter fool. Today I once again had to ignore my common sense and follow my instinct, my desire. I have to keep myself under control better, I have to be able to think clear without anything messing up my thoughts. Why did I have to bother Potter in the library? It even took me a while to find the courage to talk to him, I’ve never experienced this before. It used to be so easy. I would walk up to him and mock him and it would make my otherwise boring day, just seeing that annoyed and frustrated expression on his face was a triumph. Now I couldn’t even think of some good insults and started throwing out random remarks that made no sense whatsoever. It was as if I had floated out of my body and I looked down on myself, behaving like a stupid moron. It was as if it were another person that was standing there, being an idiot. I couldn’t do anything to stop myself.
I don’t know what it was… it was as if some external force made me go there, made me talk to him. It was as if it was a need that I had to fulfil, I couldn’t deny it. It was eating me up inside, as this whole situation is. What has changed since last year? Why can’t I bring myself to taunt him and enjoy it? Why can’t I think about anything else but him? What is this warm glow when my eyes meet his, what is the cold shower when I see the hardness in them? I know how friendly and loving they can look when he is with his friends, how joyful. Why does it make me so angry that he can't look like that at me? I’m not even sure if I want to know the answer.
I wish I could talk to somebody that understood, that gave me advice on how to handle all of this. It’s killing me inside and I feel so ridiculous because I don’t know what it is, exactly. I feel even more ridiculous for fooling myself. Of course I know what’s going on, I just can’t bring myself to admitting it. It’s what they talk about in those romantic stories I hate, it’s what everyone seems to long for and what most people seem to get. I always said I would never let this take me over, it wouldn’t even happen to me because I wouldn’t lower myself to this. Yes, I have always thought I stood above love. I just need to deny it, keep on denying it… and hope it will fade away. And maybe, in ten years, I look back at this moment in my life and be ashamed of myself… if I’m not already.

Draco

Genner · Bohemian Writer Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: HPF

I won't be able to finish this fan fiction on HPF, but I will continue it on FFF. You are welcome to read and comment it there!

The Diary on FFForum