Disclaimer: Weirdly enough, though the information Rowling supplies me with is now slim pickings, his entries are nearly daily. I'm enjoying picking up his story into my own thread; but still it must be Rowling's. Always hers.


July 14, 1997

Dear Journal,

Last day of catch-up.

Point of previous meeting: fortification. Of you, that is.

Oh, the spells that have been placed! One, an important one, I presume, is handwriting recognition software. Then, in order to read any past entries, I must pen the date in- this will trigger the check. If it gives the all-clear, the contents will be revealed.

The next is more subtle. Hand. When I grasp it, I must be sure to grasp it in just the right manner- otherwise, it'll become as fierce as a Monster Book assigned by a severely retarded half-giant professor. But that shouldn't be too difficult, as Father put it so that it especially matched my natural book-opening routine.

And the third... I don't know, actually. Just in case someone Veritaserumed or Legitimancied me, he didn't want to tell all.

Fourthly, I put a spell on it which judges a characteristic that I don't know. He wrote about twenty spells down, and told me that these were pretty top secret, other than those of the Black lineage. And judging by pureblood pattern, that includes basically all Death Eaters. Still, I ran my eyes down the list and chose one that said Audiscodiw (n-vbl), and silently placed the spell. A weird, almost electrifying rush overtook my senses, sour but soothingly powerful. It was the recognized rush of Dark Magic.

I had never realized before that Dark Magic really is noticeably Dark. Doing an Unforgivable feels weird (I've done Imperius and attempted Crucio, remember?) but as they're Unforgivable, I had expected that much. It's almost like an honor. We are noble enough to fray into the less explored denizens of magic, cunning enough to abandon fear for these unopened treasures. I could already feel it take hold of me.

Father looked slightly sad at my exhilarated expression. Perhaps he's too weak to enjoy it, I though with a mental sneer. Then horror overran it and I apologized, also mentally, for my audacity.

"It is a necessary precaution," he said, as though reassuring himself. "Now no one other than yourself will be able to read it, and no one in this world knows how that's done. Yes, very necessary."

A new idea suddenly struck me. "Father?" I asked tentatively, holding you a little tighter to my torso, just in case. "Why are we going to all of this trouble when you could just..." my voice faltered, "ban me from writing in it, and wash out the ink?"

"It pleases you," he said. "It genuinely does. And that's precious, Draco." This was getting a bit weird. It sounds like he's going soft! cried the fading Dark Magic remnant in my soul impudently. "Additionally... I don't want you as my enemy."

Then he swept out of the room, just as the last Dark, Slytherin urge dissolved.

And I carefully opened you, wielded my quill, and penned today's date,

Draco


July 20, 1997

Dear Journal,

Today I overheard Father talking to Aunt Bella in hushed tones. Well, his voice was low, at least- Aunt Bella knows no discretion.

"-met Potter in the Department ...trees?"

"Ah-ha, yes! Baby witty itty Potty! No match for the Dark Lord!"

"... curses ... use?"

"A few weak Stunners. And tried an Unforgivable on me, the nerve!"

"...effect...any darkness...soul?"

"Ha! No power, no heart in it at all! Ay, lamest Crucio ever I saw. Though Draco could give Potty a run for his money, I expect."

I bristled at this, but then hastily rammed my ear back to the cracks of this ancient, grand house, whose espionage secrets belong to its true residents. "...but the effect, Bella- was he untouched?" Now he was louder- closer, I had to be more cautious now... but perhaps he was a bit impatient instead, for footsteps I didn't hear.

"Oh, angry a bit afterwards. And it opened his mind up to the Dark Lord, whose greatness anticipated the weakness, of course."

"But, Bella..." the voice was too quiet again, but the last word was easy to hear, and urgent, "...permanent?"

"Only as much as a normal dark curse for a teenage boy. That means no, Lucius." She cackled, and I scampered away, realizing then that I was far too close for safety. As I scuttled back to my room, which was where I spent most of my days, a haven from the shame and suppressed frustration, I overheard her taunting tone, "Really, you were a good little boy? Little clean-shoed, clean-nosed squirt?"

For Merlin's sake, we're all family now! Don't patronize him, too. I couldn't understand it.

And then it occurred to me, for the first time, that Aunt Bella regretted her sister Cissy's decision to wed a Malfoy. Did she believe that his "clean-nosed" double-edgedness was taking her away from her beloved (once again, poor unfortunate Rodolphus Lestrange)? I certainly hadn't helped matters, with my failures. Did she think that by bringing her family into ridicule, we, the Malfoy men, had dragged her away from the Dark Lord? Did she regret my birth, too?

When this theory came to mind, it explained all of the inexplicable sour commentary she had thrown at us that confused me and irritated Father so. How dare she!

It had to be right. Suddenly, Aunt Bella was thrown into a new light. Occlumency lessons that she had described as "making those Malfoy men useful..." Trying to separate herself from the Malfoys but asserting her own independant desires at that Death Eater meeting...

Ugh! How dare that cheap trick ever assume that the title of Malfoy besmirched her pride!

Draco


July 24, 1997

Dear Journal,

Father came to me with a set face today. Rather grave, in fact. Worrying. We had a very long conversation; I can't even recall the words he used, it all addled me so. It was something about adulthood (I scoffed heartily at this), making decisions autonomously, empowering yourself to an end. He also mentioned "the catalyst of war," whatever that's supposed to imply. It was so metaphorical and philosophical; too much, to be honest. Pre-Azkaban Father would never have taunted me with such figuratives. Before, he would have said something direct and clearly true, such as: "You are always greater than Mudbloods, Muggles, Squibs, and Half-Bloods. Assert your superiority, but be careful, and know your limits. There are figures of authority, such as Dumbledore, that it isn't wise to defy without permission from me, who is the highest figure of authority you'll ever meet, save the Dark Lord." Well, now that I've met the Dark Lord, Father's authority has quite confused me, and he hasn't even mentioned the aforementioned creed. I hope he's at least kept his priorities and bloodline-agenda straight.

After our discussion about adult ends and autonomy, he stated simply, "And thus, I have decided that it is imperative you learn Legilimency."

And so our lessons begin!

Today, I focused really really hard on his mind. He told me he was doing a kind of opposite-Occlumency; like closing a door so that a very specific crack shines through, which apparently takes the skill and effort of a master Occlumens. So, basically, I was supposed to receive this image/thought/concept that was being held out specifically to me.

I almost got it. I told him it seemed red. He seemed very pleased with my progress, declared me precocious, and bade me adieu.

Then I asked it- "What's this for?" Of course, it'd be dead useful at school if I could completely Legimens, but this kind of Legimens... it didn't make sense. I can only read minds that want to be read? How is that useful?

"For private communication, of course." He turned back to the door, but I again interrupted his retreat.

"But this is private."

"Not private enough."

And with that reassuring, self-explanatory, entirely direct and specific explanation, he left me there. That was sarcasm, by the way. I wanted to make sure you knew that, in case you were thinking I was an idiot. But of course you weren't. How could you think that- I've owned you for all my life, haven't I?

Well, actually, not really all my life.

I've known Father far longer than you.

But I don't know him at all,

Draco


A/N: Wow. Summer's never lasted this long, as far as I remember. Draco writes in his journal a lot now that Jo isn't guiding him. What a paradox! Unless this speeds up, I may not be able to finish this story in a year (it's anniversary arrives on July 5th!)

I've started to really focus on Draco's character development. No, he's not going to become totally good. That's not possible at this point, because there are integral events at the Battle of Hogwarts that indicate that he's still unhinged, still confused. He doesn't understand his father anymore, and I'm really going to bring in Lucius a lot more. Some father-son moments, if you will. I've still got some important twists to their relationships that I'm planning out, one of which I've had in mind since the beginning of these Diaries.

Also, I'm inventing a little magic. Well, Dark Magic did exist before, but here I'm starting to explore some magic details. Harry gets his depth-ified knowledge of wandlore in seventh year. For Draco's advanced magic, I'm looking more at how spells leave their residue. After all, what would be magic without an aftertaste? Just as power can corrupt, magic transforms... Well, no more details from me. Tell me what you think about the idea.

mjmusiclover: The role of Death Eater for him was a lot for his family, but he took it upon himself originally as a rite of passage to adulthood. The reason Draco reiterates his original specifications for being a Death Eater is that it is contrasting with a lot of new things that are coming into play- emotions that he's having difficulty sorting out and stifling, and strange hints from his family that they aren't exactly walking that path anymore. Haha, Bellatrix. A horrible person, a brilliant character. Cow is a bit too subtle? Chewing, mooing. No, Bellatrix must be something of a more violent nature. Like a nacho.

So, although computer problems have been bothering some of you poor dears, I'm sure there are some of you who can manage a little review!