Wrong Place, Wrong Time
A semi-sequel to Fragile
Disclaimer: Oh joyous Turkey, oh Joyous sleep… I own all, but a weeping none. (People are staring at her weird.) Don't mind me, just very much lack of sleep. Standard Disclaimers apply to the characters used and the fragment of the song Iris, from the Goo Goo Dolls.
Author's Note: I always wanted to post another angst fic. This one is what I am intending to aim for. ^_^ Enjoy!
(Don't you think the quill close up in the HP Movie (if you've seen it) was weird? It was like a beat-up end of a black felt tip pen. O.ox;; And don't tell me you didn't see it! It was during the part in the Potions class and [Dan(iel) Radcliffe] Harry was writing on parchment. (If you needed a reminder.))
Summary: Ronald Weasley finds himself unveiling the true mysteries of two of the most popular Harry Potter characters, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. What happens when one starts falling for him, and the other, seeking revenge? You can't help but be at the wrong place at the right time!
He had been alone most of his life, for him to fend off of himself.
He never was paid any kind of attention, and was shown in a lime light when he became Harry Potter's and Hermione Granger's best friend.
He never wanted it in this form.
He had been overly drastically shunned and now delved deeper into these shadows.
He didn't know what else to say, what to think.
And he had drifted away once again.
* * * * *
He placed his quill down, and glanced at the pieces of parchment that had begun to pile up as he wrote. He sighed as he rolled them all in a bundle and wrapped them with thin string. Reaching under his bed, he took out a mahogany box and placed the bundle inside. Putting the box under the bed carefully, he felt content at what he wrote.
He laid his head on the pillow, and stared at the ceiling, now bleakly gray without light. He had received a lighting quill that flared up in light, but enough to be conservative for people trying to sleep, every time someone wrote a stroke.
His eyes drooping, he fell asleep as he melded into the covers.
* * * * *
And I don't want the world to see me
Coz' I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
-Iris, Goo Goo Dolls
* * * * *
December 12th, 1995
Dear Journal,
It seems so lonely here now. I mean, I've always been more of a loner, but it just seems colder and lonelier here. You see, Harry would be here in this dormitory talking to me like the best of friends we are and it'd warm this room right up! Even a Weasley can't warm up a room without someone else.
He's staying for the Holidays like we usually do, but he's been away lately. I heard that Lupin has came back for a visit or two. I bet Harry's there. Perhaps he's even drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows in Dumbledore's Office, Lupin telling Harry the times before his parents' death. Maybe Dumbledore is just there, adding bits and pieces, and other things along to the stories and atmosphere.
Even though he has seemingly had a harsh life, he manages to make it off on his own. I know the death of Cedric hit him hard. If I were him, it'd be the same. But he is not me, so I don't have the right to judge.
I wonder what the rest of the student body might think, "Oh my God, Ron Weasley sounds smarter than he is in person!" or (coming from Malfoy anyway) "My, my, Weasley, writing in a diary? My god, I didn't know you were gay ect. Ect."
I mean, Malfoy seems like he's the head of everything, and he goes around strutting his power everywhere. He starts rumors for revenge, and happens to hold grudges harder and longer than a lima bean. He may be trying to be smart, flamboyant, and confident, but he isn't.
I bet his masks are breaking. I can see through him, because I am a lot like him; in a few ways. He does a good job concealing the emotions that is usually unnecessary for a future Death Eater; but he's not good enough for me.
He looks like a tiny lost boy, just wanting affectionate attention. Truth to why he is alive, answers to the questions he desperately needs answering, and friends to hold him in line like the real human being he is.
He acts a lot like me, delving into the shadows that suck the rest of the Earth.
It'd be interesting to know if Malfoy is just trying to be opposite of what he really is. I mean, he lives a life already planned for him; an arranged marriage, two pathetic body-guard type friends, and to hold up a name that is worth tarnishing.
I wouldn't be surprised if he fancied anybody male. *shrugging* But that is just me I suppose.
But his actions are what convince me the most. Most Malfoys have charm, wit, an ability of verbalism, and a way of action. You can tell his actions, when geared at things like anger or cockiness, are a bit acted out, but seem to have been played anyhow. Everything else was handed down to him on a silver-platter.
He's just an actor who acts his part well, as he relives what he gets.
And I can hear him snickering now, "My, my, Weasel; making a study about ME? Why, I'm not even sure if it's worth being flattered or worth a sickle." Then he'd sneer at me and turn around and go away.
He is a manipulator.
Luckily, I don't get sucked in easily.
You know, I'll tell you this: "I am what you think I am, but I am who shall look at me and think I am. Do you know if I truly am?"
Funny, writing that. So many ams.
Truly, no one knows the true me; the Real me inside. It's wrenching there, trying to break free, but I know it will never happen. I know, because I've tried.
It's very cold in here, and I feel a tad better writing. But all I know is that I have myself/journal to confide in. No body. Not even Harry.
This pain is always dwelling inside of me; struggling for a few fights, but it bleeds internally, just waiting for the wounds to be healed. It hurts, and even in the cold, the last remnants of warmth are filling, because it is guilt I feel for myself and no one else.
To live a worn mask and to live a worn fate…What has it become?
Well, I shall get going now. It is around 5' o clock in the morning, and I need more sleep before I wake up for breakfast again. Harry should have been here hours ago! I wonder…if there is anything going on…None of my concern anyway.
-- *** *******
PS- I wonder what happened to Malfoy during the train ride to Hogwarts. I just hope Hermione will forgive me when she gets back from vacation. She's doubted me recently, before she left.
I sighed as I placed the journal under my pillow. It had been days I have not written in it, and I wrote a few more pieces. Another day gone by…
And I feel asleep.
-- End Part/Chapter 1
Author's Notes: I was trying to confirm if the date on the journal entry was correct. Is it the third or fourth week of December when they have the holidays? Or is just the two weeks during the Christmas time like we Americans have? I'm trying to find out so it would make sense. But for now, I'm leaving the 12th in there (for subtle reasons apply). If you guess, then perhaps you may see something… Eh heh.
I put a relation of my first [HP] fanfiction, "Fragile" there. Maybe a few hints to get you going in the direction this is heading, but is a bit of an alternating reality that branches off from it. If you've read it, I'll perhaps put another chapter on, if I feel the need too.
Don't ask why I didn't write Ron's name at the end of the journal entry. I mean, besides the context clues, if he lost it, no one wouldn't understand what he had written besides the people mentioned and all.
*rubs her eyes* I'd nitpick through this and add a bit more details to it, but right now, it's around 6' o clock in the morning, so the ending is a bit cheesy. Review if you want.
Oh and the first piece of Italicized Text is part of what Ron wrote on the pieces of parchment. %_%x;;
~A-Chan Yuy~
11/23/01
6:35/:32 AM CST
