Disclaimer: Part of the scene in August 1st's entry's dialogue is from Deathly Hallows. As always, this story is canon-compatible, meaning a lot of it belongs to J. K. R. However, I take pride in rewording and reworking the books to Draco's perspective, and thus feel a little as though these stories- not Harry Potter's, but the words I have chosen to describe was I have decided to occur- could be a bit mine as well.


July 25, 1997

Dear Journal,

Father is giving me daily lessons. They are very clandestine; he even uses a time-turner he snagged from the Department of Mysteries to gain back the lost time (he then hid it in his robes before they dragged him off to Azkaban… but it held little relief, as going back in time would only cause him to wallow in agony for double the time). His excuse to the ever-present ever-busybodying ever-impossible Aunt Bella when she finds him entering my room for a small second? "I'm checking on the boy. He spends all of his time cooped in that da*ned room, potentially acquiring asbestos or all sorts of unseemly diseases. Complete association with inanimate objects is acutely unhealthy, as you'd know very well."

"What's so valuable about him that he warrants leaving service to the Dark Lord for even a moment?" Her voice was laced with scorn and suspicion, as though she was condemning him for joining the Order of the Pheonix and not checking up on his son.

"You may recall, Bellatrix, the Dark Lord's specific orders pertaining to him. He wants Draco in good health."

She grumbles in response, and leaves him be for a moment.

Though Bella's usually on Father's case, I overheard another objection- this time, Aunt Bella's sister, also known as Mother. "Lucius, are you certain that this is necessary?"

"He is our son."

"Draco is just a child; we mustn't endanger him like this! It's better if he doesn't know."

"I'd rather not leave him in the dark. We are a family, and lies will only inspire bitterness and separation..." A tired sigh from Father, and he looks very very old as he tenderly gazes at his wife. His voice is gentler when it resumes, "He is of age, at any rate. My decision is final, Narcissa. He is already involved. This way is safest. This discussion has ended."

She returns to her servantile wife status, as is befitting of the Malfoy women, but it's starting to seem more like they're partners at this point. I'm so confused at this point; I don't even know who the facade is for. The Death Eaters? The Dark Lord? Father? ...Or is it me?

Draco


July 31, 1997

Dear Journal,

The Dark Lord has ordered me to see him. This could be interesting.

Draco


August 1, 1997

Dear Journal,

Why did I say interesting?

"Hello, Draco." Though the words were jovial, the Dark Lord's face, as always, was drawn. In his hands was a small yellow candy… was that muggle candy? The long spider-fingers nimbly unwrapped it and tossed it into his mouth, which began to chew slowly, deliberately. I couldn't help comparing myself to the sweet, but I could help shuddering at the thought.

Why did I say interesting?

"My Lord," I said reverently, conjuring up an image in my mind's eye of Father serving him as a model. If only my memories of their interactions didn't include humiliation and abashed subservience! It was aggravating… He finished chewing.

"I still have difficulty evaluating your recent escapades for me. Its level of success evades me." How so? I almost said, but held my tongue. The bastard was dead, wasn't he? "You did get my Death Eaters into Hogwarts Castle, which I did not perceive possible. However, that was not your task. And the ultimate conclusion is, although you did manage to complicate a very simple assignment and produce surprising results, Severus Snape murdered Dumbledore."

I tried to keep my face neutral, keep my shields up. If begrudging Snape was a weakness, then the Dark Lord would exploit it. I had learned from Father's memories in our lessons.

"Not you."

Prodding a dead unicorn, much? I stirred slightly, but mustered the energy to mumble, "I will do better next time, My Lord." I mentally slapped myself. Next time! No next time, please! I can't handle another mission!

"Next time?" said the lipless mouth, curving slightly into something that was eviler than a smile. "Unfortunately, some espionage missions are impossible for you now. You've lost your credibility, Draco. Your element of surprise. That was the brunt of your usefulness. And if you aren't useful…" He rolled up the empty wrapper and tossed it deftly into the fireplace. He continued to look thoughtful. "Still, you may have some other talents, hm?"

At this point, I was almost wishing that I did. He wasn't using any Imperius, but at the same time… My mouth dry, I could not find the words to respond.

"I suppose wit isn't one of them," he mused, another candy out of his pocket. Noticing that I was eyeing it, he explained, "They are called 'lemon drops.' Albus Dumbledore was fond of them. Even while he's gone, I can't help wondering what made him… tick." Behind him, the clock chimed eleven times. "Ah, already? Well, your newest assignment has arrived, Draco. Try not to fail me this time."

This time? I thought I was useless…

Apparently I had spoken aloud, for he responded, "Well, not yet, dear Draco." I hastily re-established my Occlumency. Spoken aloud or no, I could only hope he hadn't noticed my breach. Though very likely he had… "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for your parents. Here's how the stakes look. Listen closely. Your parents have usefulness for their loyalty, and for holding your loyalty. As for their loyalty- I have Lucius' wand. There is little more for me to take on that end. Narcissa is not even a Death Eater, and should she be disposed of, there will likely be little rebellion on Bellatrix's part if I can successfully convey a disloyalty. And Bellatrix is not difficult to seduce. So, really, their only bargaining power, whatever eloquences may emerge from Lucius' mouth, is you. And if you aren't useful, then the entire family is spoiled. What a shame- the Malfoys have such potential- such a lineage- pure, proud, peacocks."

So there they were; and I knew the stakes. I was listening closely, and somehow it wasn't so difficult to comprehend after hearing it before- a year before. I could remember it, and though the words and circumstances were a bit different, this time I would need no stumbling questions. I knew the stakes; I knew them by heart.

There was a very timid knocking at the door. For a moment I had mistaken it for the fearful pounding in my chest, but when the Dark Lord raised his wand, it was not at me. "Enter..." he hissed. "You are late."

Wormtail nudged the door squeakily open (I cringed inside; usually, there would never have been a hinge unoiled). Following him at wandpoint was a large colleague of Father. Or of me, actually. That was a strange thought.

"Good evening, Rowle," He said pleasantly, which is actually quite menacing from the Dark Lord. It still disturbs me that this tone is the exact same he was using on me for the entire previous conversation. "You requested my presence earlier, and thus I have set this appointment. It is unanticipated for you to be late to deliver your report, especially when I was led to believe that this involves an exchange of gold. Greedy as you are, I'd expect you to have hastened at the chime, rather than be dragged by this rat." Despite myself, I was intrigued. Gold? Either this was going to be spectacularly enlightening, or I have business with this Rowle- an apprenticeship, perhaps? Either way, there had to be an important reason that I was here to hear such news- otherwise I would've been banished. Am I moving up in the ranks? I wondered. Perhaps this entire meeting had been a sort of twisted reward for completing the task assigned to me last year, in a means-to-an-end way... He continued, and I continued to listen. "This is only one reason that I do not have very high hopes for your venture's outcome. Also, if it were success, I would have assumed you to be proclaiming your catches from every rooftop. Then again, perhaps you simply have applaudable, unprecedented discretion. I am an optimistic man. Please begin."

The man seemed to shrink at every word, his profile dark and shuddery before the bright, snarling flames. He suddenly collapsed, and my first impression was that he had fainted. Instead, however, he was only kissing the Dark Lord's robes so fervently it was as though He was a lady to be charmed.

The Dark Lord, not a lady and not charmed in the least, raised his voice and wand. "Crucio!" Rowle leapt backwards, his body twisting in horrible motions and foam flowing from his moaning, chalk-white lips. "Cease your chewing, and tell me who dared utter my name!"

I think of lemon drops as Rowle painfully crawls to a kneeling position, sweat drops crawling from his red-rimmed eyes from underneath disheveled blond hair, still twitching. "It-t was H-harry Pot-t-ter, and two friends."

The Dark Lord waved his wand, saying, "Calm yourself. What of Dolohov? I believe he accompanied you."

"He was Obliviated, sir. By this girl- couldn't have been less than seventeen or eighteen, with very messy brown hair." The crude description rang recognition in my mind. It couldn't be... Hermione Granger? "She did me, too, but I heard and deflected it without her noticing- her attention was instead on the other boy who was accompanying Potter as well."

"Why did you not attack? She could be useful hostage."

"I was Stupefied."

"So..." He spoke as though talking to a severely retarded person, and his s's became more Parseltongue-like with every moment. "Your risk was a complete failure, Rowle?" At his non-response, the livid Lord cried "Crucio!"

He writhed once again, and I did my best to isolate and discard my disgust. It seemed to be more painful this time, but I thought to myself: It's not hurting me, it's not hurting me, like a mantra, and I felt a slight peace in the chaos. Selfishness is what Gryffindors call mere Self-Perseverance and Prioritizing. I only wished it could be a blanket-ban on sympathy, but I could not entirely help feeling uncomfortable.

In form of distraction, I was slightly relieved of the horror- something inexplicable drew me to the Dark Lord's eyes, which had, in the light of the fire, become startlingly, familiarly green. I had met his eyes! Was that what they looked like as they sensed in me deep sickness at the proceedings? Further terror washed over me. Why was I here, just listening to a man's screams and placing my family's secrets in danger? I stared at the carpet beyond the scene, and brought the chant back: It's not hurting me; I am safe. It's not hurting me; I am safe...

The Dark Lord began to speak once again, his wand lowering but not his rage. "More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini?" Once again, I attempted suppressing my weakness. A thought, unbidden, sneaked into my unasking ears- Perhaps Nagini is so large from a diet of human beings... "Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time. You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure."

Everything else flew out the window, and I was left with my own cowardice again, my own fear, my own hate... my hesitation.

"Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

Shaking so hard it would seem it was I who had been placed under the Cruciatus twice, I raised my wand. Don't think. Do. I spluttered, "Crucio." He screamed a little, didn't even move two inches from his position. There was a strange part of me that felt relief, and another that felt let-down.

"Your heart's not in it!"

My heart- my heart which knew the stakes, my heart which pumped the blood from my parents with such urgency. No! I would not be left with only such a lame organ of mine! NO! Father, help me! Confused and desperate, I raised my hand again, and tried to feel the necessary anger. But what had this man done to me?

The small shadow that seeped from my feeble previous curse whispered hints in my waiting ear. Look at this scum. If it weren't for his failure, no one would ever need be punished. There would be no Crucio! If it weren't for his incompetency, then there would be no meeting, there would be no threats, there would be no Harry Potter, and there would be no need for your family to be in danger! If it weren't for this giant blonde man's utter imbecility, there would be no need for Death Eaters, because there would be no jobs for them to do. There would be no muggles, no muggle-lovers, five manors for every Death Eater, your family would be happy, Father will never have gone to Azkaban, and-

"CRUCIO!" I screamed, furious at myself. Thorfinn Rowle no longer had an identity; he was only a demonic being, who represented all of the weaknesses in myself. I could have killed Harry Potter- why had I even wasted a moment in the bathroom? Why had I allowed him to Sectumsempra me? If I had been serious, I could have Crucio'ed him first, I could have broken him, I could have killed him, and the Dark Lord would love me, and Draco would rise above Father with Father's strange plans and discretion, and Draco would rise above Snape with his deceptive aid and protected emotions. Why was I so horrible? Why couldn't I decide what I wanted?

"Very good, Draco," the Dark Lord said approvingly, as Rowle's head lolled sickeningly on his thickset body. "You have exceeded my expectations. You may go."

I'm not sure how I made it to my room, or to my hidden diary- habit, I suppose. An alert medulla, as my cerebrum was certainly too occupied to successfully lead me anywhere.

I kept glancing at my wand. What had I just done? Tortured a man I hardly knew- and even though the force of the spell was insisting that I should be proud of my self, that I should revel in the power I held over this man- I had "exceeded expectations"! The Dark Lord would not hurt me, he was prouder of me in my thin blonde form than this giant, this giant failure! My family would not die today!

My rationalization could not entirely soothe me.

I feel sick.

I feel scared.

Don't make me do it again!


A/N: And that's a wrap. He doesn't even sign the last one... Now, I've decided to make my A/N's more organized with boldness. Cheers for Gryffindor! (Yeah, horrible pun, I know. Bear with me here.)

Oh yeah, and about the delayed posting. I have reasons! I actually went on a long road trip (when I say long, I mean hours and hours of boredom and freeways). Watching words makes me sick, but I wrote half this chapter in the car before promptly feeling a bit ill and shutting it down. I didn't have internet either- again, we were on the road. Now, second reason- it may sound lame, but I was also occupied by an internet phenomenon known as the Altador Cup. *blushes* Hey, there are players of all ages! Don't condemn me!

Excuses over. So if you want to skip them, meander over here, for chapter discussion. Now, J. K. Rowling once said of Draco Malfoy in an interview after the pivotal sixth book: "I thought of Draco as someone who is very capable of compartmentalizing his life and his emotions, and always has done. So he's shut down his pity, enabling him to bully effectively. He's shut down compassion — how else would you become a Death Eater? So he suppresses virtually all of the good side of himself. But then he's playing with the big boys, as the phrase has it, and suddenly, having talked the talk he's asked to walk it for the first time and it is absolutely terrifying. And I think that that is an accurate depiction of how some people fall into that kind of way of life and they realize what they're in for. I felt sorry for Draco. Well, I've always known this was coming for Draco, obviously, however nasty he was." Rowling is still a guiding force, and I always must abide to her laws as I characterize and develop. And as I'm shaping his character, I'm also trying to think of where he has to be at the end of the year, so that he'll be going after Harry in the Room of Requirement and then later he'll be wed to Asteria Greengrass with a boy named Scorpius Hyperion... So he can't become homosexual or an Order of the Phoenix spy with those kind of events in mind.

HEY GUYS! I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU! Please respond in reviews, if you care to answer: What genre(s) do you think this belongs in? It's been General since its conception, and I feel like if I could make that description more specific it would be nice and perhaps attract a wider readership, so I wanted some ideas.

Now, to my magnificent reviewers (yes! I have a plural this time!):

honorary weasley- For one thing, I'd like to note how awesome your review was. I read it, gawked stupidly, and then gushed about it to my friends. Now, a long review warrants a long reply, so here we go.
~As for your exam procrastination, I'll have to soothe my conscience a bit about that. Exams must be aced with impunity! Tsk, tsk, tsk. Hopefully you don't flunk miserably by reading this... but I don't think you will...
~I am planning for a few twists in the characters of his fellow Slytherins, certainly. I also might try introducing a wider cast; it's always the last year at a school that you unknowingly branch out to meet more... I'm glad you find my characters consistent; it annoys me as well, reading a fanfiction with a specific character mirrored among all of them. There are always different reasons, different reactions, and different backgrounds, as you said in your review, that set people apart. I occasionally worry that I bend characters a bit too much- but life is so fuzzy and funny that change is constant, and different is the same as always. In conclusion: I'm pleased to know that my meddlings have emerged as distinct peoples. A really large focus in this tale is characterization, so that kind of compliment is worth a lot...
~Oh yes, his sixth year- that's about when his entries became less fun to write. Not in the sense that writing lost its spark- it just became more urgent for me to mold him more. He's closer to adulthood, and his reactions are a lot more specific- he starts thinking for himself, so I have to start deciding what's his process, and such. So there were no more little jokes and "APRIL FOOLS!" and such. It's just a darker writing now...
~Oh, and I was completely astonished by your use of the word "oscillates." Some of the reviews I receive are barely capitalized, and then you use such a beautiful word! I'll probably try and include that the next chapter, just to please me... And yes, it is very exciting to venture into unexplored terrain...
~And as a general comment on the whole of the review, I love reviews like yours especially because they suggest and remind me of things to cover in the diaries... Because once a date is gone, it's gone. I can edit it, but there are hordes of people who won't know what it said, and loses its potential as a plot point. Thank you, and I look forward to future comments!

mjmusiclover- His father is pretty awesome, right? His mother is, too... but for some reason I haven't included her as much. Ah well, there's a mention in this chapter at least. :)

SO if you want to: condemn me for taking so long, answer my question, or just be a generous soul, you know what to do. And if you don't, here's a hint: review!