One Day I Might Have to Explain Myself

Concealment

I'm writing this down, for there might come a time, when I will have to explain myself, when my memories aren't that fresh anymore and I don't know how it all came down to this.

When I started my Diary most of it had already happened and I recalled it only briefly, but I have come to the opinion that more space is needed for it. Anyway, I spared an important part of my life back then - a part that I didn't dare to write down, not wanting to give evidence to it I guess. That's why I'm using this separate book now.

It might be presumed ironic that one of the parts of my present life that I consider as most important and shimmering has to be concealed in such a dull, inconspicuous book as this. But that's its purpose, to conceal and to preserve.

Yet I assume, I should start at the beginning. I am, however, not going to repeat the history books that will be written when the war is over, for I don't know whose view they will show.... Certainly not mine though, since mine is to blurred.

The summer '95 was the summer of Voldemort's return though one didn't notice much of this, if one wasn't - like my family - previously involved in his rise and fall. When I returned from Hogwarts that summer the atmosphere at the Manor was one I had never known there before. Maybe it was some sort of excitement, mostly my father's, as something had finally happened that I know he had longed for for years. So had I, because of him and because of whom I have been raised to be, a Malfoy.

Malfoy. This name carries meanings. I like it and I like what it stands for. I like its past and am proud to bear it. And since I'm Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's only heir, I one day will have the power, honour, blessing and pleasure to lead this name on into its future and then it will be truly mine to decide which meanings it will carry from that time onward, what in maybe a hundred years will be a newly added part of its honourable history. I treasure this burden.

Things changed that summer. Despite my father's often acting as a host to the man whom I'm grown to believe to be the greatest sorcerer in the world - yes, Voldemort spent some days at the Manor back then - he had also taken a greater interest in familiarising me with some of the more interesting aspects of the Dark Arts. And I liked to be taught, because then he spent time with me. Precious times that had become fewer, since he became gradually more and more occupied with his allegiance towards the Dark Lord over time.

That summer, however, also happened to be the summer of my fifteenth birthday. And it is probable that this was what made the greatest shift in my life back then. Or maybe just the thing that prodded everything in a new direction, speeding up the process. Not that I assume fifteen to be an important age - not any more significant than fourteen or sixteen. The thing about my fifteenth birthday, however, was that it was overshadowed by Voldemort's return. His return was more important to my father and everybody else and the childish, but well reasoned and understandable stubbornness that befell me back then made me for the first time question my father, Voldemort and their beliefs. As the blessed (some people may even say spoiled) child that I was, I couldn't tolerate my parents giving more attention to the preparations made for Voldemort's arrival at the Manor than they did for my birthday. Nevertheless, that was what occurred and as much as I admired the Dark Lord, I couldn't help but feel betrayed by the fact that he got what I deserved, being of course every bit of my parents' attention at my birthday. That night after that unusually small birthday party, I lay in my bed and I thought for the first time about why I admired him. That night I still wouldn't question him. I dared not. Neither did I dare question my father, for the very thought of it was as unfamiliar to me as it could have been. But this simple 'why' broke down a wall that I never bothered to rebuild.

When I returned to Hogwarts on September the first the atmosphere was tense. But it would be a lie, if I said I didn't like it. Everybody looked at us Slytherins. They seemed to regard us as some sort of thermometer for what was going on outside of the school. And everybody looked at me. Even some of the Slytherins. They knew the hierarchy. My father is more powerful than most of the other Death Eaters ever will be. And bearing the same precious name I had powers my fellow Slytherins will never have, not to mention my being more talented than many of them due to the valuable extra lessons I had the privilege of having during the summer.

Yet the curse I had laid upon myself wouldn't let go of me anymore. I asked myself a lot more questions than I had before. Twice I urged my mother to take me home for the weekend to be able to use the Manor's library. She wouldn't deny my biddings. She liked to have me back home and my father had always approved of my interest in knowledge. At the Manor we also have something like a restricted section, though. But Lucius had taught me that very summer, how to enter it without even knowing he did. Truth to be told I think that would have been the very last thing he'd wanted to teach me, for it contained books that gave more direct answers, that didn't contain only half of the history that is told but much more than is healthy to know. I noticed that the things I had learned so far had been simplified, thusly my opinions such as they were had become one-sided and biased.

The most curious thing about what I found out, however, was that I already knew most of it. Yet as more and more of my questions wanted answering I for the first time had to draw connections, I had to look a little further, had to see things I hadn't wanted to see. I found out that my fathers beliefs weren't congruent with my own. I still don't think them to be wrong. There are several views of truth I guess.

I would have liked to have someone to talk to though, but I didn't think it wise to discuss my new ideas with any of my fellow Slytherins. They were involved in other discussions. Well, and discussing anything with Vince and Greg had never been very helpful - amusing, yes, but not, if anything serious bothered you. I didn't take part in their conversations anymore, it didn't interest me and after several weeks even they noticed and so I broke it with them. I spent most of my time in the library. Lucky that the O.W.L.s were scheduled at the end of the year.

Without really noticing myself, however, I hadn't only changed my life that day. I had neglected to fulfil my duty in starting quarrels with the Famous Three and though I myself hadn't noticed, they had.

(I just happened to notice that up to this point I could have written all this down into my ordinary Diary.... Curious how many words are needed to explain the simple things that happened afterwards.)

I will spare the part where it was up to them to make the first move. I'll also skip how I fell for Ginny, for here and now I want to focus on how I came to befriend Ron, since he is the part of my life that has always been concealed to some extent.

Well, I know that I make it sound as if he had always been part of my life, which is at best but a lie. I knew about him, of course, ever since I can think. My father cherishes the Weasleys as anybody cherishes a good bunch of enemies. And so I knew early on how many children they had and I even bothered to remember the names. I knew they had a son about my age and I even was mildly curious to meet him at school. Then Potter had rejected my friendship and befriended him instead. Add Granger and Ron was bound to be in my focus.

He was never as interesting as Potter, though he could be much more fun. He was easier to enrage and it was enjoyable to play with his temper.

He only became really attention-grabbing, when I began to hang around with the Trio. Harry and Hermione made it very easy for me. I think they are so much into all this Good Guy stuff that they saw it as some sort of aid-program, without even intending to. Especially Granger always had it with helping and Saint Potter... I think his bare existence speaks for itself. I still feel sick at the very thought that they maybe even pitied me....

Ron, however, was different. He didn't think of simplifying anything. That was interesting now. He would behave civilly - especially when Hermione was around - but there was no 'forgive and forget'. It was much harder to get through to him at first than to befriend the other two and that was why I tried so hard. He was some sort of challenge.

I studied him, so to speak, and approached him bit by bit. I think the wall broke, when he for the very first time was able (and willing) to laugh at a joke of mine. Then one evening, as I made my way back to the Slytherin dungeons, Ron followed me and held me up in a hallway.

"Bastard!" he said.

I had turned to him and was slightly taken aback, but somewhat amused nonetheless. He caught up with me.

"You slimy, little bastard." He said this rather flatly and I asked him, whether he was done now. He gave me a considering glance and continued. "No. I just always wanted to tell you this."

Now I couldn't help but grin. (Know what they say about boys that can make you smile?)

"Well, Weasley, it's not as if this was the first time you told me what you think of me, you know."

"Are you sorry?"

"What for?" Of course, I knew what he meant, but for some reason I wanted to stretch this conversation. I wanted to make him talk, since it was very obvious that he had waited for this quite some time.

And I think it was the right decision. I gave him a chance to clean out his closet.

"What for? For all the trouble you caused us! For calling Hermione a Mudblood! For nearly getting Harry expelled in the third year! For trying to get Hagrid sacked! For not even bothering to stand up as everybody stood up for Cedric! For -" As he paused I knew he would finally come to the point. "For insulting my family."

Today I wonder why I still remember his every word. The whole conversation is still vivid at the back of my mind. So is my answer.

I said, "No," and I meant it and maybe the whole scene would have been more impressive, if I had said nothing more, but some part of me knew that the conversation would have been over, if I did. So I added, "If you ask me, if I am sorry, the answer is no. So that's the wrong question. If you asked me, if I would do it again, it would be the same answer though and maybe that's the one you wanted."

Ron said nothing for quite a while. Just looked at me and I could see his mind work. It was interesting, but I never found out what he thought back then. Yet eventually he offered me his hand. I took it and that was it.

Harry and Hermione were rather surprised the next few days, as they noticed how well we suddenly got along. Truth to be told, before I befriended them, I would have given half my fortune to see them as shocked as they looked, when Ron and I stumbled through the Portrait Hole next day, laughing and clutching on to each other in order not to fall. He really is fun to be around with. Strenuous at times, sensitive and stubborn, but witty and humorous and easy to talk to.

I think Harry had a problem with our sudden amicability. I guess he felt as if Ron would be less his friend the more he became mine, which might have been true, if we were talking about anybody else than Ron. He would never be less Harry's friend, or Hermione's boyfriend, or Ginny's beloved brother, just because of me.

Then, however, something happened, that I hadn't expected. Or better yet, something didn't happen. I thought that after succeeding in gaining his friendship, Ron would lose part of his fascination for me. So it had been with many things in my life. I thought I had known him before and now that he was my friend, he would lose his appeal. But he didn't, for the simple fact that I had been wrong. I hadn't known him at all.

One day I had come to see him and found Harry and Hermione playing chess in the common room. They told me that Ron was in his dormitory and Harry gave me a nod, allowing me to go upstairs. And as I was just in front of the door I... heard him sing. For a split moment I was so utterly stunned that I didn't know what to make of it. But this lasted for only a second. I sat down on the stairs and listened. It was not a very fast song, but it wasn't really slow either. And in-between there were moments of silence or mere humming. But I still remember bits of the text. I think I remember them, because I wondered which passages were fitting for Ron to sing and which weren't. And I noticed that I must have come somewhere in the middle of the song.

'Just then I realised what a fool I have been.

Just 'cause I looked so high,

I don't have to see me,

Finding a paradise wasn't easy but still

There's a road going down the other side of this hill.

Never forget where you've come here from.

Never pretend that it's all real.

Someday soon this will be someone else's dream.

This will be someone else's dream.'

His voice was pleasant to listen to and so I sat on the stairs until the song was over. As he had hummed the last gentle lines, I stood up I knocked once quietly and opened the door to find him dancing in the middle of the room. He held some sort of Muggle device in his hand and had what looked like small (useless-looking) earmuffs on his head. I leaned back to the doorframe and watched him, waiting until he would notice me. I figured without much trouble that he was somehow listening to music, which seemed to come from the device that was connected with the earmuffs. And apparently he was listening to a song this time that he failed to know by heart, by his habit of just occasionally singing bits and pieces such as, 'I'm the lord of the boards,' or, 'Jump and get around.' It was really funny and I remember myself thinking that he might even be a good dancer. It was then that I wondered how he would feel against my body for the first time.

And again a wall was broken.

I wouldn't get rid of this thought now that I'd allowed myself to think it, nor would I be able to rid myself of the image of him blushing furiously as he at long last noticed me watching him. He really was handsome - nevertheless, I was shocked to find him in my dreams the previous night and several night afterwards.

I found that I enjoyed his presence more and more. I, however, had no idea how he felt.

Shortly thereafter I fell for Ginny. She's really beautiful, maybe the most beautiful witch I had seen so far. And Malfoys always had it with beauty. And she resembled Ron. Back then I wouldn't see that this was perhaps the main cause of my falling for her, but today I both recognize and would readily admit it.

Ron was furious at first. She was the reason for our very first, as well as our only long-standing quarrel we have ever had after having befriended one another. But eventually he was soothed, as that gorgeous sister of his interfered by saying that she, too, wanted to be with me. Ginny was always the one who could easily soothe him.

For some time I was distracted. I thought my longing for Ron was gone and having him as a friend was enough as long as I had Ginny for everything else. It was utter self-deception. And now I was confronted with the thought that maybe I was bisexual - or maybe it was only Ron I wanted. Although... I still loved Ginny and sometimes at night she would make me forget the desire she couldn't fulfil.

Normally I am not the type to make a fuss over feelings. I would tell the person what I thought and see what the outcome would be. And this was what again added to the unfamiliarity of the situation. I couldn't simply tell Ron, for I was afraid to lose him. I hate fear. But there it was. And I knew I had to get rid of this, for this certainly wasn't me. So I choose to tell him, despite the risk.

One Friday before a Hogsmeade weekend, I finally asked him out for a Butterbeer at the lake on the grounds. (Oh Merlin! Did I just write 'I asked him out'? No comment!)

I still remember that I had felt relieved that he had no objections at all, not even a raising an eyebrow at my apparently reasonless offer. We drank our Butterbeer at the shore. We talked about trifles first. Classes, teachers, holidays, the O.W.L.s, that indeed were dangerously close. It had been my secret hope that I would be able to concentrate better on my studies, after being over with that.

But after a while silence arose as the two of us watched the shore and the early night sky. I had stretched out lazily and was about to decide that the night was too good to most likely destroy our friendship, when I felt my shoulder aching. Ron looked up. I had cursed silently. He gave me a questioning look and I told him. And then he offered to massage my shoulders. Of course, I knew that accepting was far from being wise, but I couldn't help it. He sat behind me and began to work my shoulders. He did quite a good job. But while my body felt at ease, my mind was spinning. I couldn't help it. Just when I thought that his very next touch would squeeze it out of me, he stopped. His hands rested on my shoulders. I thanked him and turned around to face him.

"I didn't want to stop, you know. I just wanted to ask you to take your jumper off. I can't feel anything underneath it."

As he smiled at me that very moment, I knew that I would hardly ever be the voice of reason in this relationship. He took my reasonability away. That moment I wondered, if he knew. Now I guess, he did.

I took off my jumper and he continued. He massaged my shoulders and occasionally he would pass his hands over my back. There was something reassuring in the way he handled this. Even when he reached for his Butterbeer, one hand would remain on my back. I've always been proud of my body, yet back then I wondered only what he thought about it. This was a first, my caring for anybody else's opinion I mean. And as if he could read my mind he began to silently speak to me, answering this question among many others.

"How does it feel?"

I gave a pleasant sigh by means of answering and he chuckled. I could have drowned in that sound.

"You had a lot of extra training these days. Getting desperate to finally beat Gryffindor?"

No. Quidditch had always been an excellent way to distract myself. Didn't work back then though.

I chose not to answer and silence began to soar around us again for a moment, shutting the two of us away from the rest of the world. Finally it was up to him to break the silence and to give me the courage I hadn't found yet myself.

I felt him draw a little closer to me. His hands had stopped moving, but rested on my shoulders again. I could feel his breath.

"You feel good to my touch, you know." He let his hands gently glide away from my shirt. "I'm finished." He handed me my jumper.

When I turned to him, I was once again grateful that my eyes wouldn't give me away. My father had taught me how to conceal my emotions perfectly. Nevertheless, I had the unsettling feeling that Ron could see through me. Thus there was no need to wait longer. Our eyes locked and I hoped I understood correctly what I saw in his. I opened my heart to him.

"I'm in love with you."

I always wonder, if there had been more suitable, better chosen words. But actually it doesn't matter. The only thing that does indeed matter was that my feelings were returned. I still remember the exact tone and quality of his voice, every intonation of his words, "I know. I feel the same."

Physically nothing more happened that evening. That activity, however, was only postponed to the next day. I had never felt anything the like. We shared our first tentative kisses (and more) up there in the empty Gryffindor tower. And we chose to hide it. We covered up every piece of evidence. Or rather, Ron did. He had been the voice of reason, as I'd predicted.

For a moment I feared this would end it all. It would have been nothing more than a mere memory.

It didn't end though.

We shared many nights together, many kisses and more. Always hiding it the best we could. We got to know each other in as many ways possible and I should have preserved my memories better. I will from now on.

I still love him, though I have to pretend that I do not. But I know I can't keep up this charade much longer, if I don't find a way to meet him again.... At night. In secret.

I hurt him so much and I need to tell him that I only did so to protect him. I hope he already knows. He used to see right through me....

I know I will have to go on hiding this love from the world, but I will never hide my feelings from myself again. One day I might have to explain myself and how could I ever do this, if I don't know who I am?