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Those Dark Days - Chapter Two

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March 16th, 1999

We are taking precautions now, if the worst happens. When the worst happens. Arthur came down and placed a charm on my diary, so that it is only visible to me, and those who I want to show it to. Ron is spending more and more time with me. This whole mess is my entire fault, and the guilt is cutting me like the worst pain I have ever felt. If the other family alerts the Ministry it is not only my death, but the Weasley's as well. I don't mind being responsible for my own death, but the others? An entire family? I will have murdered them all. Or as good as.

This is all my fault. All mine. This room seems like a palace now. This is all my fault. How can I live with myself?

March 17th, 1999

8:32am. I am so frightened I dare not even breathe if I can help it. I am expecting officials to take me at any moment now. Ron and I talked about death, and I soon became so shaken, he pulled me close to calm me down. I told him my fears, and released my guilt about how this was all because of me, and he told me that it was okay. Because he was happy to leave. He said that where we were going, there were blue skies, and a cozy house where Rose and Hugo were waiting for us. We could pass the time there. I could dress Rose in beautiful dresses, and make her look like a princess, while Ron could play quidditch with Hugo, and we would laugh, and make cookies together on a rainy evening. We would pass the time there, in our cozy cottage, and be truly happy. Free. I would love that. But I didn't picture leaving this life so soon. I still have to make it better for the ones who don't have a paradise to go to.

March 20th,1999

4:30pm. How can we all expect to rise against these dark forces when we are all constantly turning against each other? We are all struggling. We are all on the same side-aren't we?

They're coming for me. The Ministry. The fear of leaving familiarity makes me tremble unbelievably. Ron spent his last night with me, and I gave in to his kisses, and touches... his caresses. It was a taste of what our new life will be.

April 30th, 1999

I finally have time to write. It feels like home, to have this quill in my hand, and diary to write in. Many things have happened. Some of which are still tender topics.

Ministry officials brought me to their jail in the Ministry I think March 21st. I was kept there a long time. Perhaps two days. I spent those days doing nothing but wonder about the Weasleys. I can't bear to write what that was like for me. Painful.

Then they made me watch. They made me watch. Along with all the other citizens. But I had a front row seat. All you could hear was the spell called, and my screams, as the light left each and every single pair of eyes. I have to stop writing. I can't control the tears. The guilt and pain are unbearable.

May 4th, 1999

I keep seeing the light leave his eyes. The green light. Avada Kedavra. And his face as he turned to get one last glimpse of me. I can't wait to die. I can't wait to go to that place, where our children are. I wonder what it's like, to die. Just so I could at least have some peace of mind that the Weasleys didn't feel any pain.

May 20th, 1999

I'm still in the Ministry. From what I gather, I'm in a large execution line. Everyone here has committed a crime in the eyes of Voldemort. Everyone here is waiting. My cell is small. A ministry officer comes and feeds me once a day. The food tastes like dirt, but I must eat it, because it is all I get. This diary truly helps me. I don't have to think about things that trouble me so much. Thank you, Molly.

May 21st, 1999

Apparently, death isn't the only price I have to pay. Death Eaters pull me out twice a day and question me on how I got past the ministry during their quest to send all muggle-borns back, and other questions about how they hid me. When I say questioning, I mean interrogating. I mean torture. I refused to betray them with anything. So Death Eaters used force. I came back whipped, hit, battered, and weak from cruciatus curses. But I had also managed to return with my mouth shut. I refuse to speak. Or else they died for nothing. It's the least I can do.

May 22nd, 1999

I am hardly ever surprised, anymore. Life has taken surprises from me. Along with all the people I loved. But I was surprised today, for the first time in three years. Funny, given the circumstances. But I was. I bet he was too. He put the food in my bowl, as usual, but he looked up. I did too. I don't usually bother looking at people, because then you see their emotions. And that can really affect you. Anyways, it wasn't so much that it was Draco Malfoy, but more that he wasn't himself. His eyes were worn and dull. His face was pale, and his appearance was just gaunt. He reminded me of the way he looked back in our sixth year of Hogwarts. I just stared. He finally tore his eyes away from the sight of me and moved to the next stall.

This isn't a job for a pureblooded wizard.

Sometime at night:

It seems I am not the only one with nightmares. Persons in neighboring cells scream too. Together, a cacophony of nightmares.

May 23rd, 1999

He doesn't carry himself like he used to. I remember he was once a proud, aristocratic, snobby git. He bragged about his father, his name, his status. I remember he and Harry would taunt each other, and he occasionally quarrelled with Ron, which nearly always ended up in a physical argument. He never bothered with me though, unless he had a good reason to. Like second year, when he called me a mudblood. Then he proceeded to ignore me, like I wasn't worth the dirt under his shoes.

And now look. I almost want to laugh at the irony, but I'm truly curious by the turn of events. Food's here. I'm starving.

May 24th, 1999

One bowl of rubbish isn't enough to keep one alive. I am thinner and weaker than ever. I can't leave the thing I call a bed sometimes. I am losing the will to fight. Losing hope. I wrote "REBELLION" on the dirt floor, to keep me going.

Later:

Death Eaters pulled me out for questioning again. I am almost proud to say I did not utter a single scream. But I can see they're baffled as to how I escaped under their nose. They'll never know. Upon returning to my cell, Malfoy came back with the empty pot of food. Probably done giving it to all the prisoners. I noticed his mouth was bloody; I suppose one prisoner probably gave him what he deserves. Anyways, he abruptly stopped at the sight of me. Sort of froze there. Then he touched his bleeding lip, and surveyed his now bloody fingers. Then looked back at me. I think I saw something like realization, and resolve take over his dead eyes. He walked away without a word. It took me a moment to realize I was covered in blood too.

May 25th, 1999

Draco Malfoy comes to refill my bowl every day, once a day. I think he avoids me gaze. Just pours exactly two ladlefuls into my bowl and leaves. I suspect it had something to do with our encounter yesterday.

May 26th, 1999

Ron. Ronald. Billius. Ronald Billius Weasley. Ron, Ginny, Molly, Arthur, George, Ron, Ron, Ron. Weasley.

I'm so sorry. But you're all okay. Right? In our cozy house, waiting for me, and keeping Rose and Hugo company?

Later that night:

I watched them all die again. Why can't I stop watching them all die? I'm so scared for myself. My death. But I have no one to be alive for. My dreams consist of fire red hair, and my screams consist of the word, "Ron." The whole page is damp with tears right now so I must stop writing.

May 28th, 1999

I really want to know what Malfoy is doing here. Death Eater scum. His side killed Neville. Seamus. Harry. Ron. Ginny. Arthur. Fred. George. Ron. And many others. His side is ruining me. Us. Life. I hate him.

He passed by with a bowl of food. I couldn't get up to even go fetch it. Somehow, it's all his fault. I'm glad he's leading a miserable life, like the rest of us. All that time he boasted about being on the right side and look how he ended up. Just like the rest of us. Though he is still in a better position than I am.

May 30th, 1999

Something happened today. When Malfoy dropped off food, he dropped of more than he usually gives me. Four ladlefuls. That's double what I usually get. He usually fills half the bowl. Today it was full. What is he doing? What is he trying to prove? I don't understand where he's going with this, but every time I glimpse his empty, sad, grey eyes as he passes, I get the feeling that perhaps I am not the only one who's suffering in this world.

June 1st, 1999

There's no one to talk to. Usually, I have the Weasleys. The only company is Malfoy. So I try and talk to myself. How long does it take to die? I'm still waiting. I want to see Ron, Rose, Hugo, Harry, my family, and friends.

June 2nd, 1999

I am getting stronger, yet still unbelievably thin. I can at least get up to grab my food. Today Malfoy dropped off half a loaf of bread. A whole half!

Why?

Now I am able to resist questioning a bit more.

June 3rd, 1999

I did it. I plucked up the courage to ask him. As he dropped off my food. He had more bread with him. He put it next to my plate and I suddenly grabbed his hand. I felt his hand flinch away as if he was afraid of me. But no disgust. Just fear. Then I said, "Why?"

He just stared. Then he walked away, giving food to the person in the next cell.

Later that night:

Ministry officials came to another cell to take a man away to be executed. He put up a good fight, but the echo of his screams could still be heard vibrating off the walls. In a world like this, who would want to live? At least the line is moving forward.

June 4th, 1999

I found a piece of parchment in my soup. It read, "Things change. Even for my kind." I am sure it was sent by Malfoy. Food for thought.

Later:

I can't keep living like this. I can't keep seeing Ron's face. Or any of them. I can't. It's haunting me. I try to concentrate on what Ron told me the last night we spent together. He told me to think of Rose and Hugo, and what they look like. I know Rose has beautiful strawberry blonde curls that shine in the sun, with those curious and gorgeous deep brown eyes, and sweet pink smile. She is beautiful, and brave. Hugo has darker hair, a hint of red in it perhaps, and his eyes are exactly like Ron's. He looks so handsome, standing by his sister, smiling under the sun... calling to me. But I can't concentrate today. Their images keep slipping from my mind, and I cannot keep a firm grasp on them for long. I grabbed the bars of my cell, and tried to rip them out with the little strength I have left. To escape.

I remember I was begging for death. Begging. But I think Voldemort wants to keep me a live a while longer. To keep me miserable. It's his way of reminding himself as well as the whole world who has truly won. I yelled so loudly Malfoy came to my cell, opened it, and dropped a sleeping draught on the floor. I caught his shirt cuffs and asked him, "Why?" again. He looked frightened. He always does. All he said was, "I don't know anymore." I stared at the same place where he once stood for a long time after he left. Malfoy is a riddle. I picked up the sleeping draught, and I am pretty sure that prisoners aren't supposed to be given anything.

June 6th, 1999

Malfoy dropped of another loaf of bread with my food. He looked at me in the eyes as he did so. All I can think of is what he said. "I don't know anymore." What doesn't he know? What does that mean? Is he lost? Regretful? Does this make him any less of a monster? No. No, it does not. As long as that Mark is on his arm, he is on Voldemort's side. Not on Harry's. He is an enemy.

I hate the position I'm in. Hate someone for what they've done, yet you're in debt to them because they made sure to feed you more than your share of food.

A/N: Shorter chapter than yesterday, but a lot of things happen here so I suppose it evens out. But at least Draco is in the story now... Next update tomorrow! And as always, thank you for reading! Make sure you review! I love feedback.