Original author : D . Would (without the space)
Beta reader : IcarusWing (Who is still doing a great job)
The Very Secret Diary of Draco Malfoy
Ron
Time is pressing me. I've wanted to tell you a lot of things, but I have to leave right now. I know you have been waiting for an explanation of my confusing actions.
Here is the diary I kept during our fifth year. It will certainly illuminate many of the dark sides of our story. Since several months ago, I have been suffering a horrible external pressure.
The two of us belong to different worlds, we each have our own beliefs. However, we both have the same sense of honor and sacrifice.
Soon nothing will be as it was. We will no longer be able to meet at our secret big clock and hold hands - even that is going to be prohibited. We can no longer share kisses, or stare at each other.
I am well aware of not being the perfect guy and I have neglected you for too long. Maybe one day you will find an exceptional type, who will not be light years away from what you expect.
We are both rooted in magical traditions that are beyond us, so we are not allowed to be homosexual. I believe that back home, the word is not even pronounced - much like Squib. It is taboo. And even if it is forbidden, I do not care. Too bad. What is done is done. I will not return back for anything.
Perhaps there would be things I'd have changed: my single-mindedness, my arrogance, my assumed "indifference." I did not know what was behind all of that. I ... I did not know it was you.
Read this diary, keep it with you. I do not know when we will meet again. But you have to know that I will do everything in my power to keep on protecting you from where I am, no matter what it costs me.
You will, probably, not understand the things I'll do tonight. You will not recognize the Draco you met during our few and beautiful moments. I just hope that enough love will remain in you to overlook my actions.
I know that what I am asking you is not glorious, but there are no other alternatives. You are best placed to know that, sometimes, family decides for us what and who we are going to be before we are born. We have this in common: two kids whose behavior is dictated by the tree.
After reading this paper, you are going to either hate me or love me more, I'm taking the gamble. But it does look like us, because we have never done in half measure, both of us.
With all my affection,
Draco.
Post-scriptum: I have not been scrupulous about dates. You won't be angry, I hope.
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The trouble started when I forgot my scarf in the paved courtyard of the school. I did not know that this story would result from it. I was there, sitting at the curb laughing about frivolous things with some friends. We tried to forget aboutthe coldness of our mansions.
Yes, I was already thinking about vacation while we had been at Hogwarts only for a month. That evening, for dessert we had a specialty from the magicians of Salem - I remember it perfectly. It was delicious: the ice-cream was melting under the tongue in just few seconds. And it is precisely because of the cold that I fell sick.
I forgot my scarf, my beautiful silver and emerald striped scarf - the colors of my house. I didn't realized it until after the delicious dinner. Before returning to my dorm, I went back to the courtyard.
I approached the wall, and nothing. No scarf in sight. Just the whistling silence of October. I searched everywhere in my common room in vain. I was sick, because of that, for several days.
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Weasley did not stop looking at me during History of Magic. I would like to send my fist into his ugly Traitor To His Blood face.
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I met Potter in the hallway. We fought. I do not even know why.
Post-scriptium: Weasley stopped biting his nails. Hail to Merlin!
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Today, Theodore made a scandal of what he would do if he missed his exams. It is much of the first time I see him in such a state. It had a been a good laugh for Blaise and Pansy, but I told myself that if I did not have higher grade than that Mudblood Granger, the summer vacation would be icy...
But aren't there more important things than academic success? For example, there are girls.
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I have a cold. I breathe like a Dementor. Mother will send me an Invigorating Potion of honey, with warm clothes. Where did I put that fucking scarf? Rogue has promised me that he has ordered a new scarf for me from Mrs. Malkin's. It is chilly.
And Weasley - Oh Weasley! - Who has taken himself for the reincarnation of Fata Morgana. This poor fella offered me his red and gold scarf with a silly grin. He should suffer from heresy since he no longer likes breasts, or something like that. By the way, how many people live in his home? Eleven?
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Potter hit me again today. We fought very hard this time and brave Weasley tried to separate us ... Stupid as he is. He took a few shots and Snape told everyone that it was his fault that my face had been damaged. A little more and he cried.
I think Weasley is more sensitive to criticism than usual. He bags under his eyes and barely speaks during classes. Not that I miss his voice, but it was a kind of background sound in the class like a vent which we had the habit of listening to. The curious silence made me feel more alert than usual. .. Well, I do not know how to explain it, but it bothers me.
But I have other concerns: the Inquisitorial Squad and preparing for OWLs take a lot of time. I do not know how Potter prepares, but it will cost him a lot.
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Today I surprised Weasley crying in the park, after another Quidditch training session. He was pitiful and I allowed myself to copiously insult him. Seeing him crying, it made me laugh at first. I found it funny at first, but suddenly it wasn't at all. Maybe I should be dosing my outspokenness. OK. He was terrible, but it certainly did not deserve all that, right? No? Yes, of course it did!
Shake yourself, Draco. You are getting old. If this continues, you might even find Granger beautiful and Potter interesting.
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I have the strange feeling that Potter does not care about the mouth of the world. He plays the drama-queen by spouting homilies on the virtues of friendship, but is not fucking able to turn to see the decomposed face of Weasley. Hopeless.
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I think Weasley has lost weight. I think so. Maybe if I shoot him from his broom in the next game, it will crack when he smash down. Maybe.
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Dad sent me a letter of recommendations for my future enrollment in schools. He is exepecting a big future from me, all while I have not even taken my OWLs. He told me that he would quiet well like to see me in Finance, and become the Minister's personal counselor, like him. But I ... I do not want that ... I'd love to be a seeker in a Quidditch team, enjoy life, have fun, have a drink and wake up when the threat is finally gone.
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Tonight I slept with Astoria. It was ... strange, but it was my first time. Does that mean we're dating? Tomorrow will tell.
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Blaise asked me details about my night with Astoria. I think he is - among others - the one who made sure to spread the word throughout the castle. Pansy has not stopped looking at me this morning. Crabb and Goyle stare at me with disbelief and Theo has not deigned to leave his Astronomy book. This guy always has his head in the stars.
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I feel Weasley watching me more and it puts me off, but mostly makes me uncomfortable. So I give it to him back by publicly lowering him. Nothing better than criticizing a Weasley to inflate my ego.
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Weasley is losing weight. It is now a certainty.
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Today, I spoke of my concern about Weasley with Theodore (he was alone in the common room at this late hour of the night). I did not necessarily expect an answer, but just to have a presence and empty my mind. In the end, he looked at me and pulled out: "He may have a crush on you."I laughed and I said,"Anyway, who would not have a crush on me? "
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I saw Weasley emptied his plate. What goes through his head? I thought he loved to eat?
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Astoria and me, it's over.
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Weasley was feeling dizzy during Defense Against the Dark Arts. He gave me a hard time crawling along the corridor to the infirmary. I think he needs help ... Why is he doing that? Is it a simple need for recognition or a deep discomfort?
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Slytherin lost the match against Gryffindor. The snitch went before me as I was watching Weasley strutting in front of the goal. Potter spun in front of me and I sent the world into waltz.
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Weasley's face appears to me even in dreams.
Maybe writing will heal me.
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Finally, my letter turned against me: Weasley recognized me. What else to do except say "The letter, it was me" ? Weasley's face lit up and I wanted to kiss him to stop stuttering. I just smiled.
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This time I kissed Ron. Yes, Ron. Not Weasley. And he responded to my kiss.
I think it means we're dating. I read a lot of expectation in his eyes. Does he imagine that things will change by themselves? I would love that so much.
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I keep my distance with Ron. Soon, we will not be able to see each other. We will not be anything but strangers to each other, although basically, it is just the opposite. I think I quiet love him. Well, I just love him, that idiot.
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Well, Ron, you've read everything now. I ripped several pages where I insulted you copiously (it did not advance our business and I know that you would have taken this to heart). So you know everything about me, and my actions that were hard to understand for you. Now, we cannot pretend anymore. The future is uncertain, but it does not matter, because we took the time to know each other.
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? ? ?
By his side, Draco was smoking a cigarette, spreading bluish filament. He watched Ron from corner of the eye. He was closing his diary, naked under the emerald sheets of his prefect chamber. Freckles tickling his incredibly pale skin.
"Tomorrow ... Tomorrow we will not have any opportunity or reason to speak," Draco said in a hoarse voice, raising himself on his forearms. "Tomorrow, everything will probably change. And not just a little."
"You're not planning on telling me what you prepared that is so important, are you?"
"No. You are in direct contact with Potter. A constant danger."
"You're gonna hurt Harry?" he inquired with an anxious voice, losing colour. "I will never let you harm him. He is the best friend I've ever had. I would not hesitate one second to fight against you."
"It is not against Potter. Or against Granger. And even less against you. This is someone else, that's all. I just ask one thing: when the night falls tonight, I want you to stay away, preferably in your common room."
"I..."
"Do what I tell you."
"If you're about to make a mistake, I forbid you from..."
"From what? From taking my own future? From the beginning you knew my destiny was all mapped; traced into my skin. You cannot keep me close to you forever. You can no longer pretend to be an idiot to your friends and pretend not to know about me, about my mark. One day, Potter will eventually discover everything, even if it does not come from you. I ... I do not want you to have your friends against you. Soon ... you will have nobody but them, Ron."
The dawn slipped on their faces. It was the end. The very end. The pink ghostly glow danced in Ron's hair.
"I do not know if we will ever meet again."
I've arranged everything so that does not happen.
He looked down. The prefect of the red and gold went out from the sheets that were still hot and started to get dressed. Soon, the students of Slytherin were going out of the dungeons to get to the Great Hall. It would be more difficult to sneak out unnoticed through the dungeons.
The atmosphere was so tight that he didn't dare to say anything. The unspoken words, again and again. He looked at the Nimbus 2001 in a corner of the room and resolved to put the past behind him. It was like a gauzy veil of illusion and childish games. Now, they were adults who were engaged in adult games. And no matter what they can say, things had not changed. It is not hate. It's just that their meetings - although scandalous - were and will always be brief.
"This will soon be the turn of the war," Ron murmured.
"To what?"
"To break us, the two us. All of us."
"I pass in this case!" exclaimed Draco Malfoy with a smile growing on his face. "I ... Look, what happened between us tonight and every other night, we both knew that it was going to smash in our faces before us. But at the same time, did we have the choice to break up? Did we have the choice to be made only to confront each other? Our connection was against nature ... Because ... Our relationship ... All that ... shouldn't have existed anywhere but in our wildest dreams."
A long silence fell in the bedroom while the rising sun intruded into the intimacy of the scene.
"Tonight, I will not leave my common room," he said in a resolute tone.
Draco stroked his hair one last time and kissed him. He looked at him crossing the room, heading towards the exit, to finally go.
Ron had taken their secret diary.
? ? ?
Night had fallen on Hogwarts.
And Ron had not kept his promise. He paced the corridors near Hermione. A few hours ago, Harry had gone with Dumbledore searching for a Horcrux that Voldemort could have had. He had bequeathed to them and Ginny the little bit of Felix Felicis he had left. They walked with fear in their stomach. The moments shared with Draco felt like they were from a light-year away...
"Don'o worry Ron, I'm certain that Dumbledore and Harry have emerged unscathed."
"But the Dark Mark, Hermione. The mark above the Astronomy Tower!"
"I ... We're gonna check, okay?" she stammered.
Wands ready, they walked in the semi-darkness of the castle. Not once did they met a teacher, another prefect, Filch or even Mrs. Norris. The sense of foreboding of the red and gold was growing in his already so tormented mind.
Draco Malfoy's words were echoed in his head:
It is not against Potter. Or against Granger. And even less against you. This is someone else, that's all. I just ask one thing: when the night will fall tonight, I want you to stay away, preferably in your common room.
He swallowed hard.
Hogwarts' big clock struck eleven o'clock. Therefore, hurried footsteps were heard behind them. Ron had immediately turned around and saw in the other end of the corridor a band of Death Eaters barreling toward them. Ron began to panic. He drew his wand and was about to throw a curse when platinum hair from the hooded mass of people.
A dilemma presented itself to him:
Fight, taking the risk of injuring and trapping Draco?
Or pretend - again - and let him pass, knowingly?
His hand trembled. Ron threw curses furiously and even came to stupefy a big Death Eater who had a stupid look in the head. He stopped dead in his tracks and had a little stupid look before collapsing on the marble hallway. Draco didn't look at him, but continued to run towards them. He had around his neck an old drying hand.
Ron pointed his wand and began to murmur:
"Finite-Incan ..."
Suddenly, Draco threw down some powder from Peru which brought forth a black and compact cloud from nowhere. Ron gasped. They couldn't see anything. He felt the Death Eaters leaving near him, guided by the Hand of Glory that Draco had. It has the property of spreading light even in the deepest abyss.
The Death Eaters were already far now. Ron was not afraid. What he feared was to realize that this was probably the last time he would see Draco Malfoy.
The last time before their next meeting ...
The End