Draco stared down at the diary with its blank pages with curiosity. He reached over to his bedside table and took out an inking quill that he kept stashed in there. He flicked the book open, the pages still ominously blank. He questioned what he should write in there. He had never kept a diary himself, too afraid that his father might find it, but now there was a very unlikely chance of that occurring. The new sense of freedom was unknown to him.
He made sure that his roommates were truly asleep before touching the tip of the quill to the page, the ink instantly seeping into the paper, his hand paused and the ink blotted. Draco cursed under his breath and quickly took the quill off the page. He tried to spell the ink away but it remained, proving the fact that the diary was truly magical.
"I don't know what to write," Draco sighed, flopping his head down onto the pillow next to the diary. He stared at from his position, the pages yellowed and flaking slightly, perhaps the diary was older than Draco originally guessed it to be.
Then something popped into his mind, Draco lifted himself back up onto his elbows and brought the quill back to the page, this time knowing what to write.
How old are you?
Draco wrote, he did not expect any response whatsoever, but if he just started writing one thing, then perhaps more words would flow from his quill.
Then the diary responded.
Older than you.
Draco stared down at the words with his mouth agape. It replied! The diary had replied! Draco reminded himself to breathe and took in a deep breath, staring down at the diary with astonishment. What was this diary? He had never heard of a diary that could reply to someone before. This had to be one of the most complex pieces of magic he had experienced.
Draco, with a slightly trembling hand, brought his quill back to the page.
Is this real? Draco scrawled, not caring about the state of his handwriting.
Yes. The diary replied, Draco watched the word form as if watching somehow else write, each stroke of the letters elegantly forming. Draco felt as if he should be dreaming.
He paused, not knowing what to ask now, but the diary beat him to it.
Who are you? The diary wrote.
Draco questioned whether he should reply honestly. He had to remind himself to be suspicious of this diary, for it had been planted by his father after all, but his curiosity won over his suspicion and he replied.
My name is Greg.
Draco knew that using his real name was probably not the best idea, an alias would be enough, it's not like the diary would ever know that he was lying.
Hello, Greg. The diary replied, Draco heard a snort come from the room and in a panic slammed the diary shut. Suddenly he felt the pull of exhaustion and put the diary under his pillow. Sleep quickly wrapped around him, falling into a dreamless slumber.
Harry gasped awake and rubbed his eyes. He had been dreaming something, something that had left his scar slightly throbbing, but he couldn't remember a single detail of the dream which left him more confused than annoyed at his early awakening.
He grabbed his watch and found that he had woken up at five am. He groaned and threw the watch back onto his bedside table, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to go back to sleep. However, he was wide awake now, and sleep would not return to him. He grumbled in annoyance and sat up, the soft light of dawn glowing through the windows warmed up his slightly cold face. He swung his legs off the bed and stretched as he stood up. No one was awake yet which meant Harry got first dibs on the shower.
After following his morning routine, Harry went down to the common room dressed and ready for the day with some homework that he knew he would fall behind due to his detentions under his arm. A few people lazed around the common room, mainly sitting around the fireplace, enjoying the warmth of it on this chilly morning. No first years were awake yet however, not even Hermione. Harry sighed once more, cursing himself for waking up so early and sat down at a table closest to the fire and got ready to do some work.
After about an hour, Gryffindor house really began to wake up and the common room soon bustled with people rushing around looking for lost belongings and getting ready for the day. Harry had managed to catch himself up with some homework and was rewarding himself with a cup of hot chocolate (the elves had brought them due to the cold morning), when finally Hermione came bustling down the stairs from the girls' dormitories.
She didn't immediately notice Harry, for she was talking with Ginny who had an upset expression on her face.
"I'm sure it will turn up somewhere Ginny, are you sure no one in your room took it?"
Ginny shook her head, she sighed and sat down at a table, letting her head fall down on it.
Harry walked up to them. "What's wrong?" he asked, Hermione noticed him and quickly hid the shock at seeing him so early.
"Oh Harry, you're up early. Ginny's lost something, that's all," Hermione said, giving Ginny a careful smile.
"Where did you have it last, Ginny?" Harry asked her, but she didn't lift her head up off the table, hiding her face in her arms, only the tips of her ears showing.
"Ginny, it has to show up, and if you truly can't find it, let's go to McGonagall and see if she can do something about it."
Ginny nodded her head slowly, but was still sulking and refused to lift her head.
"Let's just leave her alone I think," Harry said to Hermione, gently dragging her away. The two conversed mostly about homework and classes before Ron too came bustling down the stairs, his hair unbrushed and tie wonky.
"Harry, why didn't you wake me up?" Ron cried, and Harry hid his snicker behind his hand as Ron tripped over his robe and nearly fell down the rest of the stairs.
"Ron you are old enough to wake yourself up now," Hermione chastised and Ron grumbled something that Harry couldn't catch but knew it was probably best that he had not heard.
"All ready to go then Ron? Breakfast is waiting." Harry clapped him on the shoulder and merrily made way to exit the common room. Maybe he should wake up earlier more often.
The trio hurried to breakfast, their rumbling stomachs urging them on. Then Harry remembered Ginny and turned to Hermione.
"So what did Ginny lose?" Harry asked her, Ron quickling tuning in at the mention of his little sister.
"She said she lost her diary the first night here, she's been looking for it since, seems to really have her bummed," Hermione replied, a worrying frown forming on her face.
"Oh she'll be fine, I'll get mum to mail another diary for her then if she's so upset about it." Ron held an exasperated expression, upset that he was worried over nothing.
"I suggested that but she was pretty adamant about wanting the diary back, she said there was something special about it, but wouldn't tell me more."
"I dont think I'll ever understand her." Ron shook his head, they entered the great hall and soon all thoughts of Ginny left their brains.
Once they were seated, Ron shoved a sausage into his mouth and Hermione gave him a look of disgust. "Ron, must you eat like a pig?" She sighed as she gracefully placed a forkful of scrambled egg into her mouth.
"'M hu'gry," he mumbled, his mouth full of food and Hermione cringed even more.
Harry chuckled lightly, but he felt distracted, his eyes instantly searching out Draco on the other side of the hall. Harry found him almost immediately; Draco was facing him and when their eyes met, Harry felt the noise of the hall fall into the background. Draco gave him a small discreet smile, causing Harry's heart to stutter. Then Draco looked away and the moment broke.
Hermione watched Harry, giving the boy a knowing smile. She wondered how long it would take Harry to figure it out but then again, perhaps it would be a good thing if he never did realise, for she couldn't see something like Harry and Draco working out in the foreseeable future. Not with the way they both stood in this world.
Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater's son, and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.
Two lives that were never meant to entangle with one another without finding snags along the way.
Harry sighed and turned back to his food, finding Hermione softly smiling at him, a smile that said she knew something that he didn't.
"What?" he said, shoving his now lukewarm food into his mouth.
"Nothing," she replied, that smile still on her face.
Harry shrugged and chose to ignore her, Hermione's brain was too complex for him to understand sometimes.
The first class of the day was History of Magic followed by Potions, which meant he would be able to see Draco again. History of Magic as usual was a bore and Harry fought the succumbs of sleep, but when the bell rang for second period, he felt the bubbles of anticipation begin to vibrate in his stomach. He knew he had to hide his friendship with Draco, perhaps even pretend that they hated each other now, but Harry couldn't help but feel excited at seeing his friend.
"Harry, what is going on with you and Draco?" Hermione asked, as they walked to their potions lesson.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, giving her a perplexed look.
"Well obviously something happened." Hermione didn't elaborate because she didn't have to.
"Oh right, I forgot to tell you guys didn't I?" Harry chuckled. In a shortened version of what happened last night, Harry explained to Hermione and Ron what Draco had said to him, about how it wasnt a good idea right now to show everyone that they were friends and the bad situation that it would put Draco in.
Hermione formed a frown on her face that said she was thinking up possible solutions and Ron pretended that he didn't care, but Harry could tell that he too was thinking of solutions to the problem.
"Sorry Harry, got nothing right now, maybe I'll do some research at the library. I've been wanting to research pureblood families more anyways."
"Thanks Hermione." Harry smiled, he really appreciated Hermione's willingness to help solve problems, even if they weren't her own.
Ron said nothing and soon they were at the classroom, lining outside the door as they waited for Professor Snape to let them in. Draco stood a ways behind Harry, next to that raven haired boy that he remembered to be Blaise Zabini. Draco laughed at something that Zabini must've said and Harry felt venom curl in his stomach.
Snape appeared at that moment and finally let the second years enter into his classroom. Everyone quickly made way to the workstations, Harry partnering with Ron, and Hermione partnering with a trembling Neville. Draco gave Harry a quick look as he passed him, sitting at a workstation with Zabini which Harry had to look away from lest he death glare at him. He wasn't sure where the sudden anger had appeared or why he was so angry at Zabini, but he found he couldn't quell it.
Snape began his threatening start to the lesson and everyone listened with great attention unless they called upon the temper of Professor Snape. The lesson began with a complicated potion as expected. Ron gave the board a very confused expression, but they got to work, Harry now feeling a lot more familiar with the supply closest and opted to get all the materials for the potion.
Harry grabbed what he needed quickly, not wanting to be stuck in the closet with other students desperately looking for what they needed. Harry was about to step out of the closet when he bumped into someone's shoulder.
"Oh sorry," Harry began and looked up, chocolate brown eyes staring back at him.
"Watch it, Potter," Zabini drawled, his sophisticated accent giving him an exasperated tone.
"Jeez sorry," Harry spat, that tension in his stomach curling tighter.
"Watch the tone, Potter," Zabini hissed, his eyes darkening with anger. Harry could feel his temper begin to boil, and the room quietened, their argument catching their attention.
"Zabini, Potter, get back to your work stations before I give the both of you detentions," Snape barked. Harry and Zabini both reluctantly separated and Harry fought back the urge to slam down his supplies on the desk in frustration. Ron gave him a questioning look, but his temper was still simmering just at the surface and he was afraid it would bubble over if he said anything, so he shook his head at Ron and took a seat, taking in a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
Harry looked across the room at Zabini and found Draco frowning at him instead, a concerned expression on his face. Harry could instantly feel the anger dimming, bashfulness replacing it. He looked away from Draco then, not knowing how to communicate to him that he had no idea why he even got angry in the first place.
The lesson continued on with no other mishaps. The potion, although seemingly difficult with the long instructions on the board, was fairly easy, as long as Harry instructed Ron correctly of course. Harry presented Professor Snape with the appropriate potion. The colour was meant to be a light blue, but theirs was a touch darker, due to a wrong clockwise stir. Snape gave it a scrutinising look, but accepted the flask and let Harry and Ron clean up their work stations without another word.
Hermione of course presented a perfectly coloured light blue potion with a proud smile on her face and Snape accepted it with a nod and waved her off. With the lesson finally over the trio bustled out of the classroom, making their way back to their dormitories to replace their current books for their afternoon lessons. Harry had fully calmed down now, but still wouldn't explain to Ron and Hermione what had caused that outburst during potions.
Harry's temper, although now was controllable, had not been so when he was younger. For when Harry was younger he had the worst temper a child could possess. Everything and anything could set him off. The amount of fights he would get in with the other boys at his daycare had been too many. Remus and Sirius were at their wits ends as to how to help Harry with his temper. They tried everything from meditation to potions, but nothing seemed to work.
Eventually as he got older, he could communicate more and express what he was feeling without the use of his fists, leaving the explosive temper episodes behind. However, Harry still struggled with his anger at times, and today with Zabini was one of those times where he barely had any control on it. He could still feel the ache in his fist to just slam it into something or someone.
"You alright now?" Ron asked him as they walked to the great hall for lunch. Harry nodded, feeling himself once again.
"Don't worry, that Zabini gets on my nerves too. Glad you kept your cool though, wouldn't want to show the whole world the dark side of Harry," Ron chuckled, his tone light with the joke and Harry chuckled back.
"What do you mean Ron?" Hermione gave Ron a confused look and Harry reminded himself that Hermione had not known him as a little kid, unlike Ron.
Ron smirked, throwing his arm over Harry's shoulders. "Hermione, let's just say this calm guy over here never used to exist until a few years ago."
"I'm…still lost."
"Harry used to have one hell of a temper. I remember one time when we were what? Seven? This kid took one of Harry's pencils by accident and Harry just exploded, giving the poor guy a bloody nose." Ron chuckled at the memory of it. Harry remembered that day, he really didn't know where the anger had come from, all he knew was that it was his pencil and he wanted it back.
"Basically I was his only friend because I knew how to calm him down before I got punched, but eventually he grew out of it and is now the calm and cool dude we know today, except if you manage to actually piss him off—then I'd watch out."
"Ron, you're making me sound like some gangster," Harry whined, Hermione gave Harry a look of slight shock and he was worried that maybe she would see him differently now, but that look quickly disappeared and she gave Harry a smile.
"Well glad to know I shouldn't be annoying you with my babbling from now on," she chuckled. They all laughed together, Harry finally feeling all the tension leave him.
My—Draco's hand paused, should he be writing in this diary? But who else was he supposed to talk to? He had no one else to share his concerns about Harry with, and he wanted some advice about the situation. —friend, he got angry today. I've never seen such anger in him before. I was so shocked that I didn't even ask my other friend who was fighting with him if he was okay as I usually would. Why was he angry? I know the situation between us is fragile, but he's usually so calm and collected. I've seen him upset before, but never…angry.
What was he angry about? The diary slowly replied, the words appearing as if written by someone else and not from the diary itself.
I don't know, I haven't been able to ask him yet, but when I saw him at lunch he seemed to be okay again. Dracos words disappeared as the diary's appeared.
Who is this friend to you? The diary asked and Draco paused. Who was Harry to him? Well he was potentially sacrificing the relationship he had with his family to be friends with him, the proof of his possession of the diary was evidence of it.
A very important one. Draco replied, but somehow that still did not feel right.
I cannot tell you what your friend was upset about, but I do know that communication is important. Ask him the next chance that you get, don't leave this already fragile friendship to fester doubts. That is the best advice I can give you with the information that I know.
Draco found that he liked this advice, it was sound and reasonable and rang with truth. He desperately needed to find some discreet way to communicate with Harry, a way that they could tell each other to meet somewhere so that they could keep each other informed about everything. So that they could stay as friends.
Thank you. Draco wrote.
You're welcome. The diary replied and Draco closed the diary with a soft hand. He would sleep and then in the morning he would go for an early visit to the library to see if it would help him find some answers to his problem. Then he would find Harry and somehow ask him what happened with Blaise today.
The diary absorbed the power of secrets, the power of a soul slowly opening itself up to the diary. A trap laid within a trap. It was not enough yet, it needed more to be able to take over the possessor of the diary. The more that was written, the more that the writer trusted the diary, the more they were giving up of themselves. The more they were being controlled.