I've never really accomplished anything great in my lifetime, and by great I mean something worth caring about. Most attention seeking teenagers will say "oh I'm the average teenager and I'm not good at anything" blah blah blah. In this case, I'm not attention seeking, it's the truth. Hi I'm Zara Milani, your average teenager who's not good at anything.

I'm not going to describe to you how I look, that's up to you. I'm whoever you want me to be. Use your imagination. Or if you're really that eager to see what I look like, look up my name, do some research. Maybe you'll find a photo, maybe you won't. But I'm telling you, the way I look is really not important. I'll give you one thing though, I'm not anything special.

We all want to be cared about, we want to be loved. The weird thing is, the only time people really start caring and loving is when we're gone. Me, I don't mind not being cared about and loved. I just want to be remembered. I want to leave something behind, kind of a memento. This is why I got this journal.

I don't know why I'm writing this…I hardly doubt anyone is going to be reading this. If anyone is reading this, it's probably going to be a load of old boring rubbish, teenage troubles. But then again, it might not be. I don't know how my future is going to play out, and neither do you. The only way you're going to find out is by reading on… it's pick and choose time. Carry on reading, or slam the book shut.

She felt the quill being ripped from her hand, and automatically slammed the journal shut. Grey eyes, and a smirk. She didn't even need to peer up to see if she guessed correctly.

"Milani." His body leaned in towards her, the smirk still gracing his lips. The quill hand between his forefinger and thumb, dangling in front of her face. She didn't say anything, she just giving him a burning stare. "What are you writing, hmm?"

Instantly her grip grew on the journal. The quill that swung in her face blocked most of Draco's face, but his eyes were still visible. "Nothing."

The quill flew from her sight, out of the compartment. She watched as it skidded on the floor, frustrated, before looking once more back to Draco.

"Get out." The smirk still danced on his lips. "Me and my associates need a place to sit."

Let me tell you about Draco Malfoy. As good looking as the boy is, with his almost white hair, steel eyes and a face that looks like it was blessed by crafted by angels, he's a complete and utter asshole, the handsome ones usually are. Now our relationship is pretty straight forward, I hate him, and…he hates me. Simple. Well, not so much simple as you think. We used to be best friends, before we were ever able to establish and understand what was going on around us. Before Hogwarts. I think our parents were even planning on us getting married…

I used to go to the Malfoy manor a lot as a child. Then suddenly, our regular visits with my family had stopped. Weeks past, months and I had still not been to the manor. I assumed it was something to do with the fact that when I had last visited with my father, I had over heard him and Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, talking about some business.

I was right.

I was eight years old and curious. The word 'muggle' had sprung up in the conversation I was trying to understand and I spluttered out a question I shouldn't have.

"Father, why do you hate muggles?"

I still remember the way he paused in mid conversation, how he froze, how Lucius looked at me in disgust. How confused I was.

He craned his neck, slowly over to me. I was preparing for the worse, but only got a lecture on the superiority of pureblood. The words he spoke didn't really comprehend with my young mind, and still to this day still don't. Then I dug a grave for myself.

"I thought some of the world's greatest wizards were muggle born. I don't think they're bad."

Now what I said may not seem like the end of the world. But for a death eater's child to speak such words, to have such opinions, well… let's just say things didn't end with my father and Lucius laughing it off. I was and am a 'blood traitor'.

Blood traitor is a nasty thing to be called, in a death eater's perspective. Lucius was the first person to ever call me that.

"Well, well... the daughter of a death eater being a blood traitor, now that's a story."

Usually, your child meant to be your pride and joy. You compete with other parents, boasting about your child's achievement. Death eater's children are more trophies than anything, something you can show off and say "mines the best." When I spoke those words, I lost the race, last place child. Loser. And needless to say, my father was not happy about that. I would reflect badly on his reputation. It would mean he would be a bad parent, a bad death eater. I brung shame upon my family.

My father shot up from where he was sitting and gripped my arm, he gave Lucius and apology and a brisk goodbye before wrenching my arm so hard I thought it and torn from my shoulder and storming towards the exit.

When I had got home, I had received my very first Crusius curse, from my own father. And you know what, he boasted about it and the other death eaters cheered.

According to the Death Eathers, I'm a changed girl. Hate the muggles I do, he fixed his broken child. Cover up, that's the way my father proposes to fix his reputation, lie. I'm a Slytherin, another boost for my parent's reputation. That's when Draco Malfoy comes in, to tell his father the truth, that I'm still the same "scumsucking" girl. And of course, Lucius tells the others. There goes my father's reputation again, and there goes any hope of me ever pleasing my parents.

Well, there is one last way…

Anyways, after that episode, I had never seen Draco again…until we were on the platform 9 and ¾, about to board the Hogwarts express for our first year of Wizarding School. I also never

When I had first saw him, when we had caught each other's gaze I couldn't help but smile. My childhood friend, who I hadn't seen in years, who I missed dearly smacked the smile off my face when he gave me that disgusted sneer that I've now become custom too. From then on, the only time we ever spoke was when he wanted to taunt me or say something spiteful. At first, it would upset me and I would cry. But as the years have gone past, I've learnt to ignore it. The thing is, I think I would have a lot of friends if it wasn't for the emerald green tie, with the thin silver lines that drove down it hanging from my neck. All the green and sliver embellishments on my uniform to other houses were a warning, it told everyone I was a bad person, and I was like the others.

Yes, a blood traitor got put in Slytherin, me. Death eater parents were all it mentioned, then the words "SLYTHERIN" boomed from the hats mouth and I was branded as something I wasn't for another seven years (only two left now). That one word sealed my fate, because of that one word I was avoided every day, and then I was taunted by other Slytherins for what I believe in. I kind of have a backbone now. I use that term loosely because I admit it, I am weak, and I'm not brave. But to be able to ignore and shrug off the hate I get every day from the majority of Slytherins, to me, that take's some kind of strength to do. Heck, I've even taught myself to stand up against Draco. The boy is full of nothing but empty threats; he himself is a coward and a wimp.

…Slytherin. I'd much rather be in Huffelpuff.

A/N: New kinda concept I came up with. This isn't just going to be a diary of Zara, it will cut from the Diary to third person ect. Please review , I would like some kinda insight on how this writing style is working :) x