A/N: This idea came to me when that book 13 reasons why came out. I haven't read it yet, but here's what that book inspired. I don't own that book or Harry Potter.

Because

Chapter 1

Blaise couldn't believe it. It had been exactly a day now. He glanced at his watch, yeah, a full day, and still the fact of what happened was still hard to believe. The event was a rare one, especially at Hogwarts, but it was a shocking one. The entire school knew too, and that made it worse.

He looked down at the diary. After all the shock the school had experienced with the attempted suicide, now he'd kept a diary too?

It had been a normal morning at Hogwarts. Well, as normal as a morning could get with a castle filled with hormone-crazed, wizarding teens all fit with wands and potions. You were being hexed or charmed, it all depended on who you were, who you angered and which house you belonged to.

Slytherins were the school outcasts, even more than Lovegood. They were judged by their house, so immediately they were cast aside, someone declaring them evil, dark and sadistic. Not people to be friends with and avoided at all costs. Over time the Slytherins learned to be independent, and with that caring grew less and selfishness stood in its place, cheekishly sticking it's tongue out. They had to have their own backs, after all.

The morning had been cast into disarray when Blaise Zabini floundered into the Great Hall, his face blotchy. Now, if anyone knew Zabini, they'd have known that he doesn't cry, or scream, or show any emotion. He just sat passively, his face a mask of indifference, sometimes he'd smirk (that usually happened when he was satisfied) or sneered, it was often hard to tell the difference. Even whilst in class his face was a mask, when he was excited about what he was learning, his eyes were dull and bored.

But that day, his eyes were red and swollen, two shiny streaks across his cheeks. He ignored them all, they didn't care, going directly for Snape. Snape, having seen one of his favourite pupils upset, was already on his feet. They met halfway, but no word was said or whispered between the two.

The two disappeared down the hall, Snape having been unable to calm him down for a lengthy period. All word he could utter, was 'Draco', before his breath caught in his throat and he had to cover his face with his hands.

Snape pulled Blaise with him by the elbow. The two of them entered the Slytherin Common Room, the password whispered quickly, and the pair of them made it to the the sixth year boys' dormitory. Blaise shook like a leaf.

Blood. So much blood. And Draco in the middle, a scarlet angel, his wings as red as the blood on the floor. A dark book in his hands. Snape crossed over, muttering a spell under his breath, his wand flying over Draco's many injuries, the book lying at their side, Snape having flung it aside carelessly. Blaise picked it up, confused. There was blood on the dark cover from where Draco's hands had been.

Draco hadn't kept a diary, as far as he knew. It seems he hadn't known his best friend as he well as he thought he had. The two had been together since they were toddlers, why had Draco attempted to take his own life?

No one knew how or why he'd done it, just that he'd tried to kill himself. Blaise put the diary on a bed, bending down to help Snape in any way he could.

Draco was in the Hospital Wing. No one but the medi-witch and his godfather had been allowed to see him. They were the only ones he'd allowed in too. He did get a message to Blaise though, to read the diary, via a scrawled note, written in Draco's shaky hand.

Until only moments earlier, he'd forgotten about it. He found it where he left only hours earlier, on the bed. It had been Draco's bed. The cover was still bloodied, though it was dry by now.

With a sigh and a feeling of dread, he turned to the first page, glad that he was alone.

Dear person reading this diary,

I guess you're wondering 'why he did it?' The answer is simple: because. The explanation, however, has more length to it. It wasn't exactly something large or profound that drove me to kill myself. It was little happenings, small things in my everyday life. It just got too much, and the few people who cared just didn't seem enough. It's probably one of those caring few that's reading this, admittedly dull-looking, book. I'm going to tell you why, dear reader, and you're not going to like it.

Blaise snorted, of course he wouldn't like it! His best friend was about to explain to him why he bloody well killed himself!

This isn't exactly a long introductory, it's more of a thank you note to everyone that cares. It's not a particularly large number, but they're there.

I'll be writing in this diary until moments before I do the deed, no matter how much keeping a diary is frowned upon by society. You might even find blood on it - won't be exciting for you? Some interesting happening, and it's not to the Gryffindor trio, the lunacy-inclined headmaster or even an escaped convict that's not as guilty as you'd like to think he is.

Sirius Black wasn't guilty, then? There wasn't another escaped convict Blaise could think of... But Black was dead. And he'd already been cleared.

Draco Malfoy has taken centre stage! And the narcissist in me finds this attention nearly addictive, even though I haven't even gotten it yet.

There are a few who care for me, and who I care for. My thanks to the ones that care. The three individuals I know that care.

To mother: you were the perfect mother figure, and you didn't fail me. The little things you did for me, even just sending me a weekly letter made my days light up. I didn't appreciate them enough. I failed you, and I apologize for the hurt I'm causing.

Blaise paused again. Draco did care for her, in a way he wouldn't make known to anyone. Not even his best friend.

To my godfather, Severus: I'm sorry for evading you, it wasn't because I didn't want your help in the task the Dark Lord gave me, it was because I knew that if you found out what I was planning, you'd stop me.

I apologize. Know that you were my true father.

Blaise had to stop again to wipe his eyes. Lucius was never a good mentor, he was too... cowardly, if Blaise could be so bold as to put it that way, too focused on social status and wealth, than family. Snape might be a snarky individual, but at least he was responsible, and he gave the Slytherins something they missed in every other class where the other houses were favoured, attention.

To Blaise...

Blaise had to stop. He knew it was wrong, but he was highly relieved that he wasn't a reason. No one wanted to find out your best friends thought of you as a failure or that you caused them pain. He breathed a deep sigh before casting his eyes down again.

To Blaise: my one true friend. I'm sorry that I'm leaving you alone. You were always the responsible one. I should've trusted you, I should've told you. I tried, but I'm not a Gryffindor, bravery isn't part of my character. You didn't fail me. You're my best mate.

Blaise had to stop to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. He hadn't failed Draco, it wasn't his fault. Draco'd called him the responsible one - it was true. He was the one to remind Draco of outstanding work or work due soon. He just couldn't get over the fact that Draco had tried to kill himself.

He'd been given the day off to relax. Snape would be by a bit later with a potion or two to make him relax and sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep at all. He'd tried, but he was haunted.

That's all. Sad, isn't it?

I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, will do this moment dramatically. I am going to take my own life, and I'm doing it in a muggle way. Terribly anti-climatic, I know, but I also knew the above mentioned lunacy-filled headmaster would be alarmed immediately if anything of the sorts happened.

So, dear reader, are you ready to embark on a tale of a wealthy boy from a well-known family commiting suicide? Where I was taught never to show emotion, or feel emotion. Are you ready to see that Slytherins have emotions and feeling too? Most of all, me having feelings - shocking, isn't it?

Blaise wanted to snort. Typical Draco with his dry sense of humour. Only he would be making jokes in a book meant to explain why he killed himself.

A/N: This is just an idea I'm playing with. We'll see how it goes. Please review!