Draco's Journal

September 23, 1997

Today was uneventful. It wasn't a Hogsmeade Saturday, so I stayed in the dungeons and thought.

The dungeons are horrible. I'm not the Head Boy, so I don't get a room to myself, but at least as a Prefect, I have gotten out of the horrible room I shared with Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. The Prefects from every house are roomed together, two in each room.

My room mate is the sixth year male Prefect, Josh Johnson. He is a Ravenclaw, though he would have done well in Slytherin because he has no sense of monogamy what-so-ever. But that's not really my business, because he's not gay. That I know of, any way. I'm fairly sure he's not since his silencing charms are really crappy, come to think of it.

But today he was out of our room, so I had the dank, chilly room to myself for the day. The only time I ventured out of my seclusion was when I went to the Great Hall for lunch with Gregory and Vincent. Just to keep up appearance as the 'Slytherin Prince,' really, but I wasn't too disappointed about being able to see Harry.

It was rather interesting. I wasn't aware of how easy it was to make some one flush with simple tasks such as raising an eyebrow and winking, or licking the last of the pudding from the spoon.

It was fun.

I came back to the dungeons though, and I've been thinking ever since.

Then I thought maybe some writing would help, because a question has been circling in my mind for hours.

Why do I like Harry Potter?

Well, lets see. He's got wonderful hair, gorgeous eyes and a to-die for physique, but is it all a physical attraction?

I don't think so, but then, I don't know him that well. I know that he's nice to every one (but me and the other Slytherins,) I know that his godfather died a couple of years ago, and I know he was abused as a child.

I also know the stuff that every one knows. I know that Rita Skeeter hates him, that he 'defeated' Voldemort as a baby and has since come out better in every meeting since then, I know that he is expected to kill him again soon. I even know that Ginny Weasley has had a crush on him since the day she was born.

But I don't know any thing more personal than that.

Well dammit, I'm going to find out.

The boy slammed his journal shut, leaving the room in such a hurry that he forgot to cast the locking charms on it. He remembered before he was halfway down the hall however, and ran back to his room to cast them

September 24, 1997

It's such a rainy day today. It has been drizzling all day, the sky has been dark, overcast, and just plain stormy. I was sitting in my room, quietly, by myself. At least, I was until Josh came in with his latest catch--I mean, girlfriend.

I really must teach that boy how to cast a proper silencing charm.

At any rate, it became a little to crowded in the room for me, (maybe he doesn't cast the charms so that I will leave?) so I left. I didn't know quite what I'd do, but I managed to spend an hour roaming around the halls.

After awhile, I noticed that there was a messy black shadow sticking up from behind one of the statues, so I went to investigate. It wasn't a shadow, however... It was his hair.

I don't know how I could mistake the black depth of his hair for a pitiful shadow. Shadows aren't black... They are a trifling gray, not the soulless color of a black whole that one might see when looking at Harry.

His jade eyes were closed, lashes dusting the pale skin below. He looked so peaceful, so happy.

Well, I couldn't just leave him there, could I?

I didn't think so either. So I woke him up... Gently, mind. Honestly, I was gentle. I ran a knuckle over his chiseled cheekbone--he didn't even stir. I blew a light breath along the path that my knuckle generated...Nothing. So I shook him.

Those eyes flew open, for a brief moment unguarded and open. The depth and complexness of his soul was visible in that brief moment--more than I have ever been privy to see before.

I wonder if he looks like that every time he wakes? That might be something worth learning.

Either way, he didn't immediately push me away, so I took the chance to issue a challenge. I was nice, I simply told him that I was sick of the open warfare between the two of us and that I was willing to take steps to correct it.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position before I even got two words out, and his defensive mask dropped back over his features.

When I explained my idea--that we play the Muggle board game, Battleship, in private, with the winner being allowed to ask one question of the other--he nodded. He actually nodded! He agreed that we should play and at least try to make a truce.

Little does he know that a truce is the least of what I have in mind.

Either way, we set up a place and a time to meet for our first game. It is Tuesday night, as he has detention tomorrow. He said he had a way of convincing the house elves to bring a snack to an abandoned classroom on the seventh floor of the castle. So that is where I will meet him. I'll tell you what happens then!

Protection charms cast, the blonde attempted to slip into sleep. Exasperated, he sat up, cast a silencing charm on the Ravenclaw's bed, and then finally fell into a deep slumber.

September 25, 1997

The grass is wet, fresh with dew
I'm sitting here, dreaming about you
Remembering your eyes, thinking of your smile
Wishing you could hold me, if only for awhile
Wrapping me in your arms, singing me a tune
Holding on tight, staring at the moon
Looking at the diamonds, counting the stars
Wanting to touch them but they are just too far
Seeing the water reflecting the light
Funny how the moon never seems that bright
A bird may swim, a fish may fly
But I'll still lay here dreaming, of you and I.

Draco smiled at the poem, before shutting his book gently and casting the proper charms. Stretching, he fell asleep again, after a boring yet tiring day of classes.

September 26, 1997

Josh was walking into our dorm as I was walking out earlier tonight, and he gave me an odd look. It must have been the Muggle board game under my arm. I gave him an odd look as well...It was definitely the fact that Blaise Zabini was under his arm. For some reason I was under the impression that Josh was strictly straight.

If he is gay, however, it opens whole doors of possibilities. True, I want Potter and when I get him, then there will be no sleeping around on him... But until then a little fun couldn't possibly hurt, right? Hmm... That might take looking in to.

But I was on my way to meet the Boy-I-Want-To-Be-With, so I quickly forced such thoughts from my head. He was already waiting when I got to the classroom on the seventh floor, so I apologized for my supposed tardiness.

He told me that I wasn't late, that he was just early, and then helped me set up the board to play.

Now, I don't think I've made any secret of the fact that I am not the worlds greatest at Battleship, so perhaps it won't come as to great of a surprise to you that I lost the game.

I did put up a fairly good fight though, and we agreed that it would be best out of five since the games were so short.

Harry won all five games.

His question was deceptive in its casualness. He simply asked me what my childhood had been like.

I'm sure he expected me to spout about how wonderful it had been, how much I loved it and my mother and my father and how I hated him for having Lucius sent to Azkaban.

Or perhaps he didn't, because if he had thought I hated him, he wouldn't have agreed to play Battleship with me, would he have?

Either way, he did seem a bit surprised when I told him that I had quite, magic-less childhood. My father didn't believe that we should practice magic when we didn't need to, so it wasn't used much. Oh, I don't mean that the house elves didn't use it. Everyone but my father, mother, and I were servants, so they all used magic to do their chores.

My father didn't need his wand to intimidate me or mother. His fists were sufficient. I think that Harry was surprised when he found out that my father beat me for perceived wrongs.

I know that I was surprised to find out that the cock-and-bull story of the closet under the stairs wasn't cock-and-bull.

I was also surprised by certain abuses that had been done to both of us by the male authority figures in our lives... But I won't go into that.

All in all, it was an eventful evening. We both left a little stressed out, but talking about past (and present, and future) horrors can do that to a person.

As it is, I'm still feeling a bit wrung out, and I do believe I will go to bed now. I have, however, learned another reason I love Harry.

No matter how many terrible things are done to him, he still has a well of hidden innocence and compassion deep inside.

The silver eyes blinked wearily as the owner of the orbs cast the proper charms over the journal. He slipped it under his pillow, and cuddled under his blankets alone.

September 27, 1997

Today was another slightly uneventful day. I hardly got close to Harry at all. I thought about freaking his little Gryffindor flunkies out by waving and smiling at him, but I was afraid that I would piss him off. I am determined not to do anything that will ruin our budding... friendship.

I did get to touch him once, though. He slipped on a wet patch where Filch had just mopped, and landed flat on his back. I was close behind him, and Ron and Hermione were quite a few steps ahead, so it was just 'natural instinct' for me to reach out and offer him a hand up.

If my hand lingered even after helping him up, what of it? I was simply trying to make sure he had his footing.

Yes, I know that it is a sorry excuse, but what can I say? I can't resist his manly prowess?

Actually, that does sound like a good excuse...

Draco chuckled aloud, scaring his roommate with the unexpected noise.

"Draco, are you okay?" the Ravenclaw asked, concern tingeing his voice.

"Yes, Josh, I'm fine. How was Blaise?"

Josh blushed. "Different."

Draco smiled knowingly. "I'd imagine." He carefully cast his protection spells, before carrying on his conversation with Josh.

September 28, 1997

I won! I actually won at Battleship. I'm not sure whether or not he let me when because he was curious to know what question I would ask him, or if he was feeling sorry for me, or whether he let me when at all. It didn't matter, though, I was simply glad to have won.

I asked him why he'd never had a real relationship before. He denied it of course. He said that he had had plenty of relationships. I asked him to name me one... And he did.

I didn't know that he had dated George Weasley during our fifth year. Apparently, the horrible redhead and my Harry were quite close.

I can't stand the mental images this brings to mind. I close my eyes and I can picture the horribly freckled hand skimming over the wonderful pale skin of the demi-god that is Harry. I can see the pale fingers of Harry tangled in the tangled red hair of another guy.

Why did I have to ask this particular question? Why did I want to know?

To make matters worse, he turned the question back on me. Unfortunately, unlike him, I didn't have a secret affair to spill sordid details about.

The sensuous lips twisted in self-loathing and depreciation after muttering the complex locking spells.

September 29, 1997

Harry cornered me in the hallway and asked if I would talk to him. He was going crazy cooped up inside--it's yet another rainy day outside. We went to 'our' classroom--the one on the seventh floor--to talk.

He didn't really have much to say, so we just talked about life in general. Deep ruminations about life and love and happiness--or lack there of.

He questioned my motives for being nice to him, for asking him to play Battleship, for wanting to get to know him.

Needless to say, I'm not quite ready to explain quite why I've done what I've done. He said that he understood, and instead he questioned why I had been a prick to him in the past.

I tried to explain. I was a pureblood wizard, one of the richest, and was sure to be excepted into Slytherin. I was the pride of my mother and father, and the most intelligent one of the family circle. I was the son of a right hand man of Slytherin's.

And then he came into the picture. A scrawny kid with knobby knees and rambunctious hair that every one was immediately enraptured with just because of the scar on his forehead, mouthing about his horrible past and the closet in which he lived. Every one wanted to look after him, to soothe him, to care for him. I offered him my friendship--and he turned it down. Instead of people turning to the righteously hurt heir of the Malfoy family line, they turned to the scraggly boy who's only namesake was the scar on his forehead.

We got into a big argument, and I walked out. I stopped at the door on my way though, to say one last thing.

"Now that we've been to "No Where Pleasant," and I have decided that its damn sure not a place I'd like to live--or even visit--, why don't we move on to "Somewhere Remotely Decent" during our next visit together?"

I think that I am rather pleased with it, myself.

The blonde nodded. It was definitely a quote to be remembered. The spells were uttered, and the boy sent another silencing charm Josh's way. Apparently 'different' was not necessarily bad, since Blaise was over again tonight. Draco just rolled his eyes before drifting off to sleep.