Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy. I do not own Harry Potter, or the Weasley's or Hermione Granger. But I do own a new pair of PJ's, mmmm, they are so soft.

Time to thank my reviewers!!!

DanniBannani: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry this chapter has taken longer than usual.

James: Ah, my ever loyal James! Thanks for reviewing my dear.

Ellie: My number one fan! I'm so glad you're not sick again! And thanks for becoming my beta.

A: Sheesh, you are so odd Annabel. Anyways, thanks for the review!

A/N: From now on my chapters will be checked over by my wonderful beta reader Ellie! So hopefully they won't have anymore silly little errors.

CHAPTER FIVE

MALFOY'S P.O.V

I hate Harry Potter.

Why you ask? I just do.

There's really no explanation as to why I hate him as much as I do. I suppose it's a combination of many things; like how he snubbed me on our first train ride, or how he's favoured, or how everyone loves him. But mostly it's because I'm jealous of him. You just don't know how hard it is for me to say that, let alone write it down where anyone can read it.

I'm jealous of the way everyone loves him, or cares for him. I'm jealous because he will never get pressured into becoming a Death Eater. I'm jealous because he's Head Boy. I'm jealous because he's a better Quidditch player than me. I'm jealous because he's so powerful. I'm jealous because everything he does is right and everything I do is wrong. I'm jealous because people see him as a saviour and I'm just the lowly Slytherin. I'm jealous because he has friends he can trust. I'm jealous because all the girls in the school are in love with him (and some of the guys) but mostly I'm jealous that I'm not his friend, and no matter what I do I never will be.

It makes so damn angry! I can't help who my family are. I can't help it that I was placed in Slytherin. I can't help it that I was brought up to think all muggle-borns are scum. I have to act like that like a snobby rich boy. If I don't act like I hate muggle's then all the other Slytherin's will get suspicious and tell my father.

I'm angry because I have a father who is going to make me give up my life to serve a disgusting thing that doesn't even deserve to be alive.

I'm angry because I can't really hate him. Not really. I can't because he doesn't hate me. I can't because he's everything I want to be. He's brave and loyal. And I'm a coward. I've tried so hard to make him hate me. It'd make life so easy. Then I would have a reason to join the Dark Lord. But he doesn't. The only thing he hates is Voldemort. I think that's the only thing we have in common.

I bet he'll never hate himself.

I do, I always have. I hate myself because I'm too weak to stand up to my father. I hate myself because I'm too stubborn to go to Dumbledore and tell him that I know my father's a Death Eater. I hate myself because I'll never live up to the standards my father sets for me. I hate myself because no matter how good I am at something Potter is always going to be better. I hate myself because of the way people look at me. That's another thing I hate about Potter, the way he looks at me, he pities me, and I hate how I'm pitied. And I hate myself because of my inability to reach out for help. Merlin knows I need it.

I never thought that I'd get to this stage, the stage where I can just get out a knife and dig it into the thing that I hate the most in the world, myself. I hate how I try to drown out the feeling of hopelessness that's settled inside of me with the pain that comes from cutting. I hate the fact that I love to see my own blood rising from the self-inflicted wounds. I hate how I can't stop. I hate myself because I know that precious little Potter would never harm his precious little self.

I hate how he'll never feel like this. I hate how I always get dealt the short end of the stick. I hate the constant reminders that are left on my arms, reminders of just how much I hate myself. I hate the relief that comes over me when I do cut myself. I hate feeling like if I just cut a little deeper it'd all be over.

I hate how I'm pressured to be the perfect malicious little Slytherin boy. I hate the fact that father has already chosen who I'm to marry. I hate Pansy Parkinson for being alive; I hate her because I don't love her. I hate how I've never felt love before. I hate how my father stopped my mother from loving me. I hate how Potter thinks that I'm a spoilt little brat when in reality I'm just an abused little shit.

I hate how uncertain I am. I hate not knowing what's going to happen to me. I hate how I'm not in control of my life. I hate my father. I hate Voldemort.

I hate Granger and Weasley. I hate them because, as much as I hate to admit it, they don't know how lucky they are to have Potter for a friend. I hate how they take him for granted. I hate watching them hang around with him and knowing I'll never have a friend like that. I hate knowing that I don't have any real friends. I hate how all my so-called friends are just replicas of their parents, the next generation of Death Eaters. I hate how I have to pretend to be like them.

I hate how I always feel like I'm trapped. I hate having to find places where I can just go to cry. And I hate how Potter had to come along yesterday and see me. I hate knowing that he knows that I'm weak. I hate that I tried to hurt him. And I hate that I couldn't. I hate the fact that he doesn't hate me.

I hate how no one will ever know the things that I am good at. I hate how no one would ever bother to ask what I like to do, or what music I like to listen to. I hate being a confused teenager. I hate my artwork because no one will ever see it. I hate the songs that I write because no one will ever hear them.

I hate how much I hate. I hate it because it's ruining my life. Or what's left of my life anyway. I hate how it boils up inside of me. I hate the jealousy and the anger. I hate the hate. I hate how I can just list off so many things that I do hate.

I hate seeing the way people see me.

I hate being told that I'm useless because I believe it.

I hate Harry Potter because he's everything I'm not

I hate that I don't really hate him, not really.

I hate how much I hate the world and all the injustices I've been dealt.

But most of all, I hate myself; just for being who I am, and who I'm not.

-Draco-