Non Time, O Parve Mage

(1/9/96)Dear diary,

Dumbledore advised me to start keeping a diary; you know, to record my dreams and stuff—to see if there are any

patterns, I think. It’s kind of awkward though—I’m not one to confess to a journal…okay, just the one time—and see how well that

turned out, huh? And how come if you talk to yourself you’re crazy, but if you write to yourself it’s seen as perfectly acceptable.

Society is so fucked up.

Anyways, I suppose I should be getting to my day. Dumbledore took me to the train station; that’s when he gave me

this journal. Anyways, for the first time since I was at Hogwarts, I was early. I picked the compartment in the very back, as usual. It

wasn’t for a half-hour or so that the rest of the gang showed up. Hermione got a haircut—it’s pretty cute. It suits her well. And Ron

has a tan now(or blanket of freckles, rather,) because he spent two weeks in Egypt. Neville seemed sick with nerves. He was so

afraid that he would be placed in the same caucus as Goyle or something (which he was ; ).

I started feeling pretty claustrophobic, so I went to the compartment opposite us. At first glance, I thought it was empty

but Malfoy was there. There was something really weird about him…different. One thing he said to me stands out though; save

someone else, wonder-boy—you’re wasting your time here.

Draco needs saving? Mr. i-have-everything-i-could-ever-ask-for-and-more? Still, something wasn’t right with him. I

figured that, knowing my luck, I’d be put in his caucus, and could drill him about it then. I was. Hermione was right—I really am too

noble for my own good. It’s damn annoying having a conscious. I don’t know why I want to help him…I just do.

(2/9/95) Dear Diary,

Last night, Draco freaked out at us; Terry, Blaise, Ernie and I. We got in a fight, and he exploded—literally. It was really,

really creepy. I had no idea he was that powerful. Anyway, all this purple is really getting on my nerves. I didn’t have any

nightmares last night—only good thing that’s happened since I’ve been here. At least Remus will be teaching DADA.


Today was really, really weird. I spent the night at Ron and Dean’s place—they’re still in Gryffindor, lucky bastards. I

came back to my dorm at around six. I was so afraid that I’d get Draco angry! He reminded me of Sirius when he’s angry—it’s

creepy. Anyway, he had just come out of the shower in just a pair of pants. His hair was still wet—I always figured he spent hours on

it, but I guess it just looks that good naturally. (God, he’s so hot!!!) Anyhow, he had scars all over his arms and chest. Apparently,

he’s a cutter like Ginny. I was shocked, because I always figured his life was perfect…but then again, I’m not the most perceptive

person in the world, am I? I confronted him about it, and he cried—Malfoy actually CRIED; I swear, the world stopped spinning.

I have no idea what I was thinking, but I just felt so bad for him, that I actually started comforting him. Before I knew it,

we were snogging—and you know me, I was all “woo-hoo!” He has a really, really nice body. Anyways (down boy) there was one

really deep scar on his chest that I knew right away he hadn’t done. It felt like it was almost…emanating a bad aura. When I

touched it, my scar started burning like a mother-fucker, and I blanked out. I can’t remember all of it, but random pictures and

sounds—memories—started flooding my head. Again, I don’t remember it all, but one thing I do remember is Voldemort hurting

Draco. I think it was him who cut him, and that’s why my scar hurt.

Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to help him.

It gets weirder. Before Breakfast, I had a fight with Ron. Apparently, Parvati came into my dorm because she was lonely

for a fellow Gryffindor (I told him it was because she’s a slut, and has had a crush on me since 2nd year, but he just hit me) and

saw me kissing Draco. She ran out and told Hermione (bitch) who told Ron (double-bitch) and he flipped out. He went on a tirade

about how he’s Malfoy. That was his entire argument, “But he’s MALFOY!” Goddamn idiot—thanks, captain obvious. I don’t know why

I didn’t just tell him it was out of guilt (okay—maybe a little bit of sexual attraction on my part—I’m sixteen, give me a fucking

break.) but I actually started to defend the non-existent relationship between Malfoy and I. He hates me, I know that. I just

happened to be there. If a hippogriff was there, he probably would have made-out with that too.

Anyhow, I sat with Draco for breakfast where he was alone (for once in his life) mutilating his scrambled eggs. I told him

I wanted to talk to him about what I saw with him and Voldemort, but he said he couldn’t. I guess that’s understandable. I could

barely talk about that night with Cedric, and I didn’t want to force him to. I should probably talk to Snape in the morning about it—

he’d know what to do.


He freaked out and fell over when I grabbed his arm—he said “he didn’t like being forced”. I think his father might

abuse him.

I ran after him when he left the hall, and Ron followed me. He accosted Draco, and said some really mean things to

him. Draco’s eyes were blazing. He was seriously about to kill Ron. Just as Draco was about to mutter an incantation, I pulled Ron

away and punched him. I am officially going insane. Anyway, then we got in a huge fight, and now I have a black eye, but I’ll get

over it—he has a broken nose, two black eyes, and a bruised rib—ha, fucker.

I went for a walk with Draco. He kept trying to get rid of me. I talked to him some more. He’s really cool to be around

when he’s not pretending to be mini-Lucius; which was really all he was doing. If I were terrified that my father was going to kill me

in my sleep, hell I’d be an insufferable jackass too. When we got to the common room, Draco seemed really stressed out—the

purple started driving us all crazy—and redecorated. I know that stereotypes are horrible, but…c’mon! Now all the furniture is black

and silver. It looks really cool; almost Gothic. I’ll give the sexy git this—he has impeccable taste.

We’re all getting along pretty well now—because we share a common bond—our love for all things quidditch and our hate

for all things purple! Now Terry keeps saying, “give me purple, and give me death!”

When Draco was taking a shower, I saw that journal he was writing in on the train and read through it. There was a

really morbid poem and a picture of what I’m pretty sure is Voldemort all done in blood. I freaked and demanded that Draco show

me his scars from when he had tried to commit suicide. He did. He looked terrified of something—of me, I think. Then, more

snogging: I really have to stop confronting my problems with sex. Randomly, he freaked out and grabbed his cloak and left. I have

no idea where the hell he went. It’s two in the morning. I’m really worried. I don’t know why I’m worried, but I am.

This is all so confusing. Something happened to him this summer that changed…well, him; everything about him. He

feels like a completely different person—human, almost. I don’t know when I started having feelings for him. All I know is that

when I know he’s sleeping not four feet away from me, I sleep soundly. Now that he’s gone…I’m afraid to close my eyes. Whenever

we were in class, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him—like I was afraid he’d hurt himself—or someone else would—arghh! I don’t

know what’s wrong with me! Am I scitzo? Knowing me…it’s not unlikely.




Draco still isn’t back.