Dear Diary
By Belldandy
A/N: This is my first time with a Draco/Ginny pairing. I don't know why I wrote this. It just came to mind. I suppose I'm fond of it... whatever there is that is worth being fond of. *sigh* Summary - Draco gets a diary. Draco writes his first entry worth writing. Wow.
10:02 PM, DECEMBER THE THIRD
They don't know what it's like. They don't know why I am the way I am. They've never lived my life.
But they still think they're better than I am.
I wouldn't mind seeing how they would live my life. They wouldn't be thinking so highly of themselves then . . .
Would they?
My name is Draco Malfoy. I am seventeen years old and I am in Slytherin house at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Life confuses me sometimes, like when the most complicated day of my life starts with something as simple as a sunrise.
That day was today.
And now, lying in my bed, Crabbe's snores echoing softly in the room, I wonder why life has to be complicated sometimes. Where does complication lead to other than to confusion?
I find that I cannot answer my question.
I woke up that morning, hating as I always had before. That stupidly innocent little girl with those glittering sapphire eyes and filthy little freckles lined beneath those happy, dancing, fire-colored curls. Disgusting was the thought in my head when she trailed in behind Potter and his friends. She followed him like a sick little puppy nowadays. She obviously has a taste for fame, I thought sourly as they walked through the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table.
I got up as they walked past. "Potter, how much did your little girlfriend pay to be allowed to follow you around? She must have had to sell everything she owned to bribe you," I taunted.
Ginny turned scarlet as Potter looked up at me. "Go stuff it, Malfoy. It's a free country and she can hang out with whoever she wants."
I gave him a sneer. "Oh? Well, you ought to tell someone if she's stalking you."
Potter shrugged it off but Ginny looked up at me. "Why do you have to be so mean?" She asked softly.
I was going to tell her that I would show her mean, but the look in her eyes made me stop. I managed to glare and sit back down, refusing to look at her again all through breakfast.
And then, during History of Magic, I kept seeing that look she'd given me. I kept seeing those eyes, turned up at me. I don't know what it is I'd seen in them. Pity? Fascination? Resentment? Or... was it a pleading look? Her eyes weren't the only thing plaguing me. It was her in her entirety.I kept seeing her face, hearing her voice, and thinking how she'd changed since she began at Hogwarts. I started to realize that it was her young, eleven-year-old, childish self I had found disgusting, the silent, embarassed child who meant nothing to me.
And what does she mean to me now? I challenged myself. Nothing? No. It could not be nothing that kept me rapt with thought. It could not be nothing on which I dwelt all that day.
And now, I still do not know what she means to me. But I do know that she is more than someone's disgusting little sister.
Much more.
But I can't decide how much more! I couldn't . . . be in love with a stupid little Gryffindor redhead because of one look... can I? I refuse to be in love with her...
But...
Her eyes haunt me. Those misty orbs are echoing in my mind. I see her red hair falling around her face, dancing around her freckles. Thinking of her... makes me... want to do what I am afraid to admit I want to do.
I want to kiss her. I want to run my hand through her hair, to -- to wrap my arms around her and see her smile. . .
Smile for me, Ginny.
But... I can't. I can't ever make her smile. She has Potter. And she can be happy with Potter. He has more to offer than I could hope to give her. I'm just that mean Slytherin boy who bugs the Hell out of the one she loves.
It's all I'll ever be.
And all her love for me is... is a dream. Just a dream. I'm nothing to her.
Nothing.
It does not do... to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Someone said that to me once. Someone from somewhere in my youth. I don't remember who, or where. I don't think it was said to me anyway.
I'm so confused.
I'm going to bed, Diary.
Yours truly,
Draco Malfoy
~~ A/N: So? Worthy of a sequel? ::pats the readers on their heads:: Now be GOOD little readers and REVIEW. Shoo, go on!
By Belldandy
A/N: This is my first time with a Draco/Ginny pairing. I don't know why I wrote this. It just came to mind. I suppose I'm fond of it... whatever there is that is worth being fond of. *sigh* Summary - Draco gets a diary. Draco writes his first entry worth writing. Wow.
10:02 PM, DECEMBER THE THIRD
They don't know what it's like. They don't know why I am the way I am. They've never lived my life.
But they still think they're better than I am.
I wouldn't mind seeing how they would live my life. They wouldn't be thinking so highly of themselves then . . .
Would they?
My name is Draco Malfoy. I am seventeen years old and I am in Slytherin house at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Life confuses me sometimes, like when the most complicated day of my life starts with something as simple as a sunrise.
That day was today.
And now, lying in my bed, Crabbe's snores echoing softly in the room, I wonder why life has to be complicated sometimes. Where does complication lead to other than to confusion?
I find that I cannot answer my question.
I woke up that morning, hating as I always had before. That stupidly innocent little girl with those glittering sapphire eyes and filthy little freckles lined beneath those happy, dancing, fire-colored curls. Disgusting was the thought in my head when she trailed in behind Potter and his friends. She followed him like a sick little puppy nowadays. She obviously has a taste for fame, I thought sourly as they walked through the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table.
I got up as they walked past. "Potter, how much did your little girlfriend pay to be allowed to follow you around? She must have had to sell everything she owned to bribe you," I taunted.
Ginny turned scarlet as Potter looked up at me. "Go stuff it, Malfoy. It's a free country and she can hang out with whoever she wants."
I gave him a sneer. "Oh? Well, you ought to tell someone if she's stalking you."
Potter shrugged it off but Ginny looked up at me. "Why do you have to be so mean?" She asked softly.
I was going to tell her that I would show her mean, but the look in her eyes made me stop. I managed to glare and sit back down, refusing to look at her again all through breakfast.
And then, during History of Magic, I kept seeing that look she'd given me. I kept seeing those eyes, turned up at me. I don't know what it is I'd seen in them. Pity? Fascination? Resentment? Or... was it a pleading look? Her eyes weren't the only thing plaguing me. It was her in her entirety.I kept seeing her face, hearing her voice, and thinking how she'd changed since she began at Hogwarts. I started to realize that it was her young, eleven-year-old, childish self I had found disgusting, the silent, embarassed child who meant nothing to me.
And what does she mean to me now? I challenged myself. Nothing? No. It could not be nothing that kept me rapt with thought. It could not be nothing on which I dwelt all that day.
And now, I still do not know what she means to me. But I do know that she is more than someone's disgusting little sister.
Much more.
But I can't decide how much more! I couldn't . . . be in love with a stupid little Gryffindor redhead because of one look... can I? I refuse to be in love with her...
But...
Her eyes haunt me. Those misty orbs are echoing in my mind. I see her red hair falling around her face, dancing around her freckles. Thinking of her... makes me... want to do what I am afraid to admit I want to do.
I want to kiss her. I want to run my hand through her hair, to -- to wrap my arms around her and see her smile. . .
Smile for me, Ginny.
But... I can't. I can't ever make her smile. She has Potter. And she can be happy with Potter. He has more to offer than I could hope to give her. I'm just that mean Slytherin boy who bugs the Hell out of the one she loves.
It's all I'll ever be.
And all her love for me is... is a dream. Just a dream. I'm nothing to her.
Nothing.
It does not do... to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Someone said that to me once. Someone from somewhere in my youth. I don't remember who, or where. I don't think it was said to me anyway.
I'm so confused.
I'm going to bed, Diary.
Yours truly,
Draco Malfoy
~~ A/N: So? Worthy of a sequel? ::pats the readers on their heads:: Now be GOOD little readers and REVIEW. Shoo, go on!