How in the blue hell do you tell someone news like this? It's not everyday someone comes up to you claiming they have to kill themselves so they'll rush to your rescue, is it? Besides, he is very wise, I doubt he'd come since he knows I'm a Slytherin and prone to have to take insane missions in order not to be killed.

Of course, he might come, knowing I used to cut myself and haven't gone through "therapy" he says is enough to realize killing myself isn't the answer. The time I should be telling him everything, I waste in sighs and wondering what he might say when I do, eventually, tell him.

That is what I do. I waste time. I stare out of my window, my eyes not focused on anything in particular. My hands perspire, my mouth dries, my nose runs, but I don't do anything but sit there and think about things that will never happen.

Thoughts about getting out of the hold the Slytherins have on me, which is next to impossible without dying, about living happily with children and Harry, things a small, petty little girl day-dreams about. But that's what I am. A small, petty little girl. That's what I'm thought of, anyway.

My colleges don't think of me as a young woman of seventeen, they think of me as a pawn in their plot to become rich and control the world. How mainstream is THAT for a Slytherin? I can almost feel my palm slap my forehead in disgust.

I have no idea what is going on around me anymore. And frankly? I'd rather spare myself the confusion and disgust I'd receive if I paid attention to them. It seems the only grip on reality I have is when I'm with Harry, when all he says or does are the things that matter.

I kept quiet. I didn't tell anyone while the plan was, ever-so-slowly unfolding. The Dark Lord assured me that the plan would not be put into action for a very long time. Still, I couldn't help the chill that ran up my spine every time I entered the Slytherin common room.

Have you ever felt frozen? Incapable of feeling anything warm? Like being happy or hearing something funny or meeting someone sweet? That's how I feel, forever, since I was assigned this mission.

Draco walks around, looking at me as if I'm stupid for not welcoming the chance to give my life for Voldemort. But what would he know? He couldn't even finish his own task last year, and that was when he was supposed to kill someone ELSE. Not himself.

I laughed at the thought. If there was anyone that was completely and utterly not willing to give up everything they want for something someone else wants, it was Draco. Stupid prat.

Sorry! I had so much stuff to do!