Draco Malfoy and the Point of No Return

Draco Malfoy and the point of no-return

Chapter 2:

Slammed Against The Concrete Wall

Previously in "Draco Malfoy and the Point of No Return":

The dream is constant. The same death. The same love. The same feeling of remorse.

He'd always wake up with a sudden jolt. And the dream was always the same. Never continuing, not even to drop hints.

+++

Ginny Weasley woke up early before the rest of the world was awake, on Christmas morning. She had the same nightmare that she has had since her first year at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle was all she could think of. He plagued her mind.

She needed to escape any reminder. So she left that summer, for a Beauxbatons exchange. Things had to change.

+++

"You're my best friend Harry, I'm not going to let you drown yourself in sorrow. You're hurting, I can tell. But you won't tell us what's the matter, so can you just talk to me for a minute? Can you just try?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione, it's not that I can't talk with you, it's just that I can't talk with anyone. Sometimes just being alone helps."

+++

"I had planned something wonderful but now today's plans are going to change drastically. You need help boy, help. You're mind is not here." Lucius pointed around the room. "I don't know what's wrong with you boy, but you are not acting as a Malfoy should!"

+++

"Something happened, and right now I don't think it has anything to do with Harry."

And she decided to herself that she would find out what it was.

"There must be a way." Hermione thought lastly before stepping into the 'Magical Menagerie'.

+++

"I have an idea that might help." Tiddlywink said as he fished a leather bound book from underneath his chair.

Draco eyed the book suspiciously.

"A bit of light reading? Harlequin romance maybe... "they met across the quidditch pitch" star-crossed lovers and all that rot."

Tiddlywink shook his head.

"Not really. This is a diary. I want you to write in it. It doesn't have to be daily, just at times when you most feel the need to be heard. It doesn't matter what you put in it, although, you can skip the bits about the time you over-tweezed your eyebrows. And since you can't break down that wall to reach me, try reaching yourself, and you might just be surprised at what type of person you are."

Draco snorted. "A diary?"

"Yes, Draco." Tiddlywink handed him the blank book.

"How...sentimental." He said as he pawed the leather cover.

"It's worked for greater wizards than you Draco." And with that, Tiddlywink got up, moved over to his desk and began to write.

+++

Every so often Ron would cast sidelong glances toward his best friend Harry Potter, to see how he was acting. Observing how Harry's mood for once seemed to have swung for the better this time. Since Harry Hermione and himself had entered the Magical Menagerie a half hour earlier he'd been bubbly and active, behaving like a curious child playing with all the creatures in the shop. Harry wore a huge grin on his face, a grin that could hardly be classified as fake. But then not everyone was Harry Potter's best-friend, and sought deeper than appearances sake. Ron doubted privately, either meant that offish grin was genuine or Harry was a better actor than he'd ever given him credit for.

Ron came to Harry's side, where he now kneeled, befriending some lowly creature.

"Oh, look at this one!" Harry exclaimed, "I think it really fancies me!" He tickled the chin of a black and white cat, which purred under his caress, rubbing itself against his open palm. "That's a good kitty! You do like Uncle Harry, don't you? Yes you do, yes you do!" he embellished, his voice adapting a rather silly tone. Harry ran his index-finger now down the cat's spine. The feline arched itself against the touch.

Ron just chuckled. "Uncle Harry? I think the fumes in here may be affecting you a little too much." Ron pulled Harry upright by the arm, "Come on, Harry. We've more useful things to do. Your niece or nephew will just have to stay here."

Harry pouted. "Fine Ron, if you're going to piss on my parade! Get your stuff, let's go then! Hermione!"

Hermione, who had already acquired her cat tonic for Crookshanks ages ago, stood transfixed by a neighboring Snake for a while now, lost in thought. She nodded toward them, carefully noting that Harry had shifted gears, yet again, not seeming quite himself. Nothing as much as the darkness that plagued him a day earlier. It seemed that he was enjoying himself, which was a welcome change so she hadn't seen any harm in lingering in the shop, enjoying the surroundings. Letting her mind casually wander while watching the snake snore, occasionally swaying its tail. She wondered to herself (and privately the serpent,) Harry can talk to you if he liked, and you back to him. I wonder if he'd be inclined to answer you more so than us.

"Hermione! Come on! If you stare at that snake any longer, someone's liable to think you've been charmed to it! Come on, we still need to get our books!" That perked her curiosity the way he thought it would. Harry smiled cheerfully as he led the way out of the shop, followed closely by Ron then Hermione.

Harry's good mood hadn't been shattered as of yet, although Ron and Hermione seemed to still be doubtful. Harry slowed his pace to catch up his friends.

Hermione pulled out a piece of paper from her shirt pocket and smiled as she checked off numerous tasks she had now completed.

"This is good," she said, "All I need now are some books for school, especially for the new 'History of Magic Class'. Professor Binns is teaching it, and he is-" But she was cut off suddenly by an energetic outburst of the raven haired boy.

"Hermione, I just remembered something so funny! Do you remember in fifth year when we were all in Professor Binns class and, oh bugger, what happened again? Ron, help me out here!" Harry said, still bubbly as ever.

Ron looked almost embarrassed. "Seriously, Harry, I really do think the animal fumes went to your brain! You're barking! You're mad! Shut your trap before you go telling us that Hermione went on a date with Malfoy!" He laughed nervously, lightly patting Harry on the back.

"I'll remember it, I will! And when I do, you'll all be on the floor, laughing like we did that day." Harry said, tapping his head with his index finger.

Hermione looked quizzical. "I really don't remember Harry. Sorry. But I bet it was really funny!"

There was now complete silence between the trio. Whether they were deep in though to what Harry was ranting about, or if they were just at a loss for words, as they have been towards one another a lot recently, one could not tell. The tension between them could be cut with even the dullest of knives.

Harry pulled his cigarette pack out of his breast pocket. Turning it over in his palm, but nothing was left.

"Bloody hell. Never realized I smoked that much! I need another pack!"

Hermione sighed. "Fine, but after school books. You shouldn't stink yourself up before you go into Flourish and Blotts."

"Of course not," Ron imparted, "Wouldn't want to build a reputation as the 'The Boy Who Reeked', now do you?"

Harry chuckled briefly. "I suppose not. Fine," He smiled in Hermione's direction. "We'll get the education stuff before the addiction stuff! I can deal." She nervously smiled back.

They entered Flourish and Blotts, retaining their required books quickly enough. And yet Harry lingered, finding something of particular interest. He waved his friends ahead, assuring them he'd catch up soon.

Begrudgingly Ron and Hermione went outside, simultaneously dropping their bags and sliding down the wall. There was a lengthy silence before Hermione finally spoke.

"Ron?"

"Mm hm?"

"I was thinking a bit about what Harry was saying."

"What? The fact that he ran out of cigarettes?"

Hermione poked Ron's arm.

"You bloody well know what I mean. I was thinking about when he was talking about our 5^th year, and I realized something, I don't remember anything that happened that year. Disturbing, isn't it?"

Ron shifted around a bit.

"Yeah, real...disturbing. But come on Hermione, you can't mean that you literally don't remember anything from last year, can you?"

"I mean it Ron. It's really odd. Why can't I even remember arriving at Hogwarts that year, or even leaving it? It was as if we had our 4^th year, skipped our 5^th and are now directly going into our 6^th. I'm confused. Ron, why can't I remember anything?"

"Oh, for the love of... Hermione, calm yourself. This must be the heat talking. I'm sure when we get back to a nice, cool room, it'll all come rolling back to you. So stop worrying, alright?" Ron was now trying to get Hermione to change the subject.

She sighed.

"I supposed you're right. Oh, look, there's Harry!"

As Harry emerged they both climbed to their feet. Harry came out of Flourish and Blotts waving a small bag in hand. He smiled, "I got this great book! It's called 'The History of Powers Lost'! It's really quite neat. Anyway, let's get going. I might buy another book if you aren't careful!" He laughed and led his friends down Diagon Alley once again.

After walking for what seemed like hours, the best friends lingered a moment, catching their collective breath.

"What now? We've bought everything we need, and seen everything there is to see, what's left?" Ron inquired. Just as Harry opened his mouth to suggest something, his attention was draw to the stranger tugging at his trouser leg. He looked down, catching sight of an elderly woman, hunched in the shadows with a crocheted blanket over her lap.

"Boy," she began, "let me tell your fortune."

**********

Upon exiting the doctor's office, Draco was set upon by his ever watchful father, Lucius Malfoy.

"I trust 'we' were civil?" He started in a low and earmarking voice," Fitzherbert is the best there is in all of England. Rebellious as you may tend to be from time to time, I trust you at least kept that fact in mind. We must respect our elders, Draco. Lest they'll be consequences." He hissed low so as not attract any unwanted attention.

Draco glared lazily at him. "So you keep telling me. However, I do believe that Fitzherbert-"

"Dr. Tiddlywink, boy! Have you no manners?"

"- Dr. Tiddlywink, elder he may be, but he was hardly so fragile. Come on Father, do tell your son. Let's have a bonding moment, as I believe the good doctor wants us to do. Are you seriously scared that I would insult the 'best in the country'? Or are you more afraid of what family secrets I may have divulged?" Draco smirked, gouging a reaction from father.

"I am not afraid boy, I am never afraid," his father smirked back, implying that this fact should be well known, "There was once an American who said, "So of cheerfulness, or a good temper, the more it is spent, the more it remains." He waited for these words to sink in before continuing, "What I am trying to say boy, is that if you don't wise up soon, you may well lose that undeniable spark that remains symbolic of a Malfoy. Appearing foolish towards someone as notable as our Doctor Fitzherbert, puts a noticeable blemish on this so-called spark. You hear me boy? Do you?"

Draco yawned rather loudly. "Loud and clear, Father. Can we go now? I sense my migraine reoccurring." And with that, Draco brushed passed his father and went out of 'Witchdoctor's Goods'.

At first Draco had just been facetious about the ailment, yet as he emerged there was indeed an odd sensation swelling through his head. Not so much painful... At first he told himself it was the heat, but with each step he took the sensation grew, till it could only be described as something wholly uncomfortable, hardly even describable. As if he were walking through molasses with an anvil dropping on his head over and over again. Draco strove forward, without bothering to see if his parents were following, not that he cared at the moment. He wanted to get away from them. He suddenly needed to breathe a chance to evaluate why he was suddenly feeling so odd.

Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a voice repeated internally, "You're a mess. You always will be. It's in your blood. You are going to carry that weight."

Draco stopped, rubbing his temples harder, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Everything was calm for a moment before his vision began to go a bit blurry. He blinked furiously, willing it to dissipate, soon stars replaced the blurriness. They sparkled and shone in his eyes, and several flew by. He remembered nothing after that. Yet, he dreamt. He dreamt a dream so fantastically odd.

His dream self was walking around what seemed to be a tower on Hogwarts grounds, which one, he could not tell, for it was all in ruins. Gaping holes were cracked through rounded walls, house banners shredded and littering the floor. Draco walked toward the remains of a spiraling staircase. He ascended, noting where blood seemed to be lining the walls. As he reached the top, he felt a strong breeze take him. Quickly he realized the roof had been completely taken off. Draco's dream self walked to the very edge, picking up a stone and throwing it over, as if testing the depth. He waited nearly almost a minute before he heard a loud, echoing 'ploink' from below. As his searching eyes traveled the path the stone took. You didn't have to have a seekers sharps s to see from over the distance the Quidditch pitch had been severely burned. Not only the pitch, but many other parts of the campus had been as well. Large chunks of grass were ripped out and visible from miles away. Several nearby towers still smoldered, some were even torn completely down. Draco inched nearer to the reminisces of the tower's edge, looking down to observe what more could have happened to the once beautiful castle. He swayed a bit, wavering his arms a bit to keep his balance.

"Careful, boy. You might kill yourself," a gentle voice said from afar.

Draco turned to see from where the voice has emerged. As he turned he faced a woman. She certainly wasn't dressed for the present condition. The dress she wore was of rich bronze velvet, with a low scooping neckline. The voluminous sleeves came to her small wrists, flaring out at the end. The fold of her skirt splayed in the same manner, completely obscuring her feet, save for the tips of her gold coloured shoes. Her gown was trimmed with bits of gold, from sleeve ends to hem. Around her head she wore a diadem band made of a similar gold, in the centre hanging against her smooth forehead, a cluster of gold with a single red jewel in the middle. Her delicate hands were clasped together, making her collection of rings ever more noticeable. Her glistening brown hair was worn braided into two great loops (one on each side of her head) and one falling down the length of her back.

"What happened here?" Draco asked, a little awestruck.

She smiled at him as if she recognized him.

She smiled, as if they were already on familiar terms. "I've been 'vaiting so long," she replied with a strong accent.

"So long for what? Where am I?" Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

"For you, I came for you."

Draco sighed, becoming more indignant by the second.

"Right, well, this is just great, isn't it? I am asleep, right? God, I hate being asleep." He mused, nearly entirely unto himself. "Seems every time I am, I keep getting these weird dreams. See? Right now is perfect example!" he declared. Fully aware he was beginning to rave, he indulged, after all it was his dream world. "Bloody hell, most normal people have dreams that actually make sense, occasional fromps with a witch in nothing but swimwear, or an all-access pass through Gringotts with an unlimited supply of chocolates, but do you think I would be one of them? No, bollocks to that! Why can't I just wake up and stop having these nonsensical dreams! It's just some big guessing game. A miserable puzzle with half of the pieces missing. I've had enough, I'm leaving, and I'm waking up right now."

Draco began to pinch himself in his irrational fury. When nothing happened, he started toward the spiraling staircase. As soon as he put one foot on the first step, the woman rested her hand on his right arm, silently preventing him from descending.

"So, tell me about your dreams," she whispered in his ear.

"Why should I? Don't you find it a bit off that I should be telling you about my dreams when I am actually in one?"

"Draco, 'ave these dreams been awful for you? 'Ave you told anyone about them?"

"Are you Violetta, by any chance?"

"'Vy 'vould you say that?"

"Because you sound just like her, the French accent and all. Plus you both wear medieval clothing. You both have the same demeanor."

She laughed airily, turning him around so that he was now looking straight at her. He bore into her eyes, her seemingly sad pale blue eyes. Looking him over, she carefully took in all the feature of his delicate face. As if the answer she sought were held somewhere within these features, in a similarly burrowing way that Fitzherbert had done. They even had the same eyes.

"What are you looking for?" asked Draco.

"You have those eyes. Those eyes that I've looked into before. Those eyes that had showed so much pain. Those eyes that reluctantly took the less traveled road in life."

"What do you mean by 'those' eyes? Although I can see how being cryptic is part of your forte, probably comes the outfit, but currently won't solve anything."

She smirked softly, "and the same sarcastic tone of voice. You are exactly how he was."

"Exactly like 'whom'?" He pressed back, unwaveringly matching her stare. To which she merely smirked, her eyes maintaining that same distant sadness but divulging nothing more. Draco sighed, exasperated. Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but all I know is that I'm in one crazy dream. And there's this thing called lucid dreaming in which you can control what happens in your dream. So I am now controlling you. You will tell me who this 'he' is, and why the hell you have been looking for me."

She expelled a tired breath, casting her eyes toward her feet. "I can not help you, but I can tell you this, maybe you should think on what trouble your impatience is going to bring you in the end."

Draco glared. "Tell me," he growled.

She looked back up at him with questions in her eyes, yet she gave him answers. "I sought you out because you carry 'vithin you a power. However, you have no 'vay of tapping into that power. 'Vat you need to find is a catalyst, a certain someone. And you will, because I know your destiny. I was sent to protect you, to give you this. It should help protect you in spirit, if not in body." With that she pulled a necklace from around her neck, a gold chain and a single pear shaped pendant. The pendant was the savage colour of blood, yet with in its centre it seemed as if it weren't solid at all, as if it contents swirled constantly, creating misty ripples. She gave the necklace over to Draco, who in return took it holding it extended before him.

"What is this?" he asked, studying the necklace.

"'Zat, boy, is my spirit," she said, smiling.

He scoffed as he wrapped the necklace in his hand.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"vear it around your neck, I and it shall guide you and keep you safe."

"And how do I know that the necklace will still be with me after this dream?" he asked, reluctantly pulling the necklace around his neck.

"Draco, my dear, never underestimate 'ze power of dreams and 'ze influence over the human spirit. You will be surprised to know what can be accomplished if you put a little faith in the unknown."

Draco looked down and studied the long chain, and it's magical glistening pendant, it's contents continuing to swish and swirl around. He looked back toward the woman as she herself descended the stairwell. Draco quickly reached out to grab her by the arm.

"Wait!" he demanded, "What's your name?"

She smiled sadly up at him, gently cupping his chin in her delicate hand.

"Are you ready?" she said.

Suddenly everything faded. Draco awoke to find his mother bending over him. His father loomed near, looking down with a look of disgust on his face. Draco winced a bit as he felt a lump that was beginning to form on the back of his head. Mentally, he checked himself, searching if there was anything else he'd suffered from this episode. Nothing broken, nothing torn, but as his hand passed briefly over his color he remembered himself, remembered the necklace given and noted that dream self or not, it was in fact there. He gulped a bit as his mother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, my dear! I was so worried, I wasn't sure what happened! You were walking then all of a sudden you fell over! Don't do that ever again! Oh, my dear!" Narcissa wept a bit.

"I'm alright mum, I swear. Just the heat, that's all." Draco patted his mother's back comfortingly. Lucius still loomed near, looking none to pleased.

"Get up, boy. Honestly you look like a loon, seated on the floor collecting dust on your new clothes. Get up before people start laughing at your stupidity. I can't believe a Malfoy would faint over the heat. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

In order to demonstrate his embarrassment further, Lucius stormed off, leaving his family to catch up after him.

"Mum," Draco said while looking in his father's direction.

"Yes, dear?"

"Tell Dadums that I've gone to get a quick drink. I will meet you back at the Leaky Cauldron floo networks."

"Are you sure you aren't going to have another heat fit, darling?" Narcissa began to feel Draco's forehead and cheeks for fever, then affectionately, holding his hand between her own. "You look a little shaky...I think it will be better if you-"

"Mum. I. Will. Be. Fine," Draco said. His mother sighed and let go of her son's hand. She watched him disappear in the crowds before turning around and running to catch up to her husband.

**********

"Please boy," she pleaded, "let me tell your fortune."

Ron looked at her, surprised.

"Sorry Miss, we've no money, you see we just came from shopping for school and--" The old lady silenced him with a smile letting the trio catch a savory glimpse at her silver tooth.

"It does not matter boy, I will tell all your fortunes. Here, come with me," she hoisted herself up, grabbing a cane from nowhere, leading them through a dark alleyway. Finally they came to a room at the end, doorway curtained with beads. The three of them barely fit in the alcove provided.

"You, with the red hair," the woman started, pointing a crooked finger at Ron, "come with me first. The others stay out here. Your future is your problem, not everyone else's," and with that she pulled Ron by the wrist through the curtain.

"You, with the red hair," the lady said, pointing an old, crooked finger at Ron, "come with me first. The others will stay here. What is to be said to each of you will only be said to you. Your future is your problem, not everyone else's," and with that she pulled Ron by the wrist through the curtain.

"I don't like this at all. I bet she's a fake." Hermione said, trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"Yeah," said Harry lighting up a new cigarette, "but it will be a laugh anyway".

"Oh and you boy! The one with the glasses! This is a no smoking area! I do not want your toxic fumes to disturb the divine," cried the lady.

Harry frowned and looked at Hermione. "I'll just be outside. Come get me when she's ready to tell my future."

"Your fake future," Hermione muttered cynically, but was certain he didn't hear, because he walked out as soon as he finished his sentence.

Hermione was left all alone, suddenly feeling very vulnerable in the dark room. She crossed her arms and slid down the wall, and waited, patiently.

**********

The old lady pointed toward a seat. "Sit and stay awhile, I've got much to say to you," she smiled greedily. Ron sat down and shifting uncomfortably in the chair. The old lady went behind a nearby screen which was opposite Ron; all was silent for a few minutes before she returned and began.

"Do not fear death, boy, for death is always at your side. When you show fear, it will spring at you faster than light, but if you do not show fear, it will only gently pass over you."

Ron looked at her with fear in his eyes, "I'm not going to die, am I?"

He could see the old lady's silver tooth glimmer in the dark, "Future is uncertain boy, you know that as I well as I do. All organisms, all beings with life all have their own stars. The moment a new life is born, a new star is born, and it becomes the guardian star. The star we stand on is someone's guardian star as well. That red star, that blue star, and when a life ends, the star falls and disappears."

Ron choked a bit, "Please don't say that. It's too cryptic."

The old lady bore her dark eyes into Ron's large brown ones. "His star is about to fall, and if you don't tell them what happened, it will be too late."

"Who is he? This is stupid, I can't believe it," and Ron began to get up, but something restrained him from actually leaving.

"You know of whom I speak. You know what you did. I know what you did. But I won't tell him. You're the guardian of his star, and therefore it's your job to protect it, and not to betray its trust."

Ron just stared at her again. How did she know? How could she know? It was impossible, since he hadn't told anybody what happened.

The old lady bowed her head. "You may leave now. Bring the other boy in. I have much to tell him. But don't worry; it will just be our secret. But remember, you have a responsibility. Don't let that star shoot away."

**********

Ron hurried from the room as soon as possible, at first thinking his friends had left him alone, before he nearly stumbled over Hermione seated alone in the corner.

"Er... Hermione... Where's our Harry?"

"He's gone for a smoke, but I didn't think he was going to be this long. You'd think he'd be a chimney at this rate. Do you want me to go get him?"

Ron chuckled a bit nervously, "Sure, tell him that Madame Loony is waiting for him."

Hermione smiled back, feeling less annoyed with the whole fortune telling ordeal. "Sure."
Collecting herself, Hermione ran outside, hoping she'd find Harry immediately, maybe even talk to him for a bit. She soon realized Harry had indeed veered off further than just the alley. In fact he was nowhere to be found.

"Harry?" she called out, "Harry, where are you?"

Quickly a dark head of messy hair poked out from the doorway of a nearby store. "Sorry, needed more ciggies," he said, smiling some more.

"Well, get in there you. Ron says, 'Madame Loony, is waiting for you'," Hermione replied.

Harry strutted past Hermione. "This way, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, "This way."

Harry marched passed Ron and nodded briefly at him, "Wish me luck eh?"

"Good luck," Ron replied, with a look of panic still on his face.

**********

Harry pushed passed the beaded curtain. "Hello? Madame L-- Uhm, Miss, Where are you?" he called out.

"Over here boy. Sit on this seat now. I've been meaning to talk to you for some time, but realized that the planet's alignments would not be accurate until this time. It fortunate, very fortunate indeed you came to me today, so that I could tell you this," the old lady said.

"Tell me what?" asked Harry.

The old lady smiled as if she knew Harry was going to say that. However, she frowned, making her smile disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

"I wished to warn you, stop chasing your past. You'll be throwing your life away by doing that." Suddenly she smiled a rather crooked smile. "But," she continued, "I'm sure you know my warning on this accord is useless here. You will continue to chase it, but you'll believe it o that you might live, not die. You believe you are living a dream that you cannot wake up from, and therefore have come to the conclusion that as the dream progresses, your life regresses. And you know that there is only one person who can kill you. However, know that you can return those words to that person. Know that you have the power to do that. But also know that this," and she reached a long, pale, crooked finger out to touch Harry's floppy hair. She pushed some aside with it to reveal his scar, "can either be your success", she drew her finger up the scar, "Or your failure", and then drew her finger down it again. She pulled back her finger and clasped her hands together. "You are going to carry that weight. You always will until you face up to it and say 'wake up'. However, know that the weight is not all on you. You will be forever protected, but not always untouchable."

Harry was in complete shock, unknowingly mirroring Ron's horror-stricken expression held in this same seat, in this same manner only minutes before. "You shouldn't talk about things you don't understand." Harry snapped indignantly, "You don't know anything about my past. I'm not chasing it; I'm living for now, the present. I'm not chasing anything," he growled at her.

"Just remember that you're always going to carry that weight. The weight of the world. You can't help it, it's just who you are, boy," she bent her head a little more, not looking at him, "You may go now."

Harry had never wanted to get more out of a place as he had then.

***

"Harry," Hermione inquired, "What's wrong?"

"She just freaked me out, that's all," Harry said panting a bit, "I believe it's your turn to feel as if you've seen a ghost."

Hermione looked at Harry with a quizzical look before pushing passed the beaded curtains just as the other boys did.

"Hello? Where are you?" Hermione asked just as Harry had moments earlier.

"Ah, now I know now. You, you're the girl who is going to end it all."

Hermione jumped at the voice and began to search for a seat in the dark, found it, and sat down.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shifting a bit in order to get comfortable.

"Love is a funny thing, isn't it? It can either bring you great joy, or great sorrow. You will experience both." The old lady said, cocking her head to one side.

"That's all very nice, but what exactly is it that I'm going to end?"

The elderly witch smiled, "You are going to help the seeker discover what he lacks most of."

Hermione's heart immediately jumped at the thought of Harry, once again needing her help. "What am I helping Harry discover?"

The old lady laughed a loud, hollow laugh. "Often think of your friends first, do you? Before yourself even? The person, who needs your help most, you do not have value enough for them in your eyes. They may seem ... unfeeling, but at present they're looking for a way out. If they continue so unknowingly, they're sure to suffer huge consequences for these measures. In fact, you'll both suffer great pains and joys. But in the end it is you who shall think it only a dream. What you are going to end girl, is the dream everyone chooses to float around in. You are the one that is going to say 'wake up', and they are going to listen. I told your other friend this, but do not be afraid of death, for it is always at your side. Also, all things with life have their own stars, and it becomes the guardian of a new star, but that original star is also protected by a guardian star as well. We are all looking after each other's stars. And when a life ends, the star falls and disappears. "Whose star is about to fall?"

The old lady bowed her head.

"That is a path still undecided, I had surely thought it was only one, but seeing you, and knowing what lay ahead, it seems as if there will be more than one star falling."

Hermione frowned, not knowing exactly what to make of what she was hearing.

"I'm sorry, but you aren't making much sense right now. Would you tell me whose star is falling? I need to know how I can prevent that from happening."

"Always helping your friends out, aren't you? Always at their sides whenever someone needs a helping hand. That will benefit you in the end, but not the way you think it will. You may go now. Tell your other friends thank you, because everything is clearer now, because life is a dream you know, it's never ending, and my dream has ended, I have woken up, and now I am living, and filling my purpose."

Hermione choked on the air she was breathing.

"I-I have to go. Th-Thank you for that... I-I have to go.."

Hermione looked around nervously before standing so suddenly, knocking her chair over. Hermione rushed to right the chair only to find it had already been set right. Hermione looked back to the old woman, only to find that she was alone. The woman had vanished, as if she'd never been there. This scared Hermione even more and in her shock, she knocked over the chair again, not even bothering to pick it up this time. She sprinted down the hall with all her energy, but it was as if the hall was never ending. She was running down an endless black tunnel. She stopped, trying to catch her breath and reason this out. A blackness seemed to be closing in on her. Reaching out with both hands, Hermione tried to stop it coming at her. But, the blackness pushed her down, and she was falling downwards, for what seemed like hours. Finally, she hit the ground. She expected that it would be hard, but it was as if she had fallen on a bed of feathers. She rolled onto her right side and groaned. What was going on? Why was this happening to her? Feeling cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, and rolled onto her other side. She then saw Harry's face. It was blue, and his lips were purple. His eyes were unusually clear and green. He looked back at her widened brown eyes and smiled.

"I'm going to do it," he said.

Hermione blinked.

"What?" She gasped, her voice suddenly sounding very fragile.

Harry sighed.

"I'm going to do it. Off the Quidditch field. I have a rope and everything."

"Harry, what are you talking about? A rope? What are you doing?"

This time he frowned.

"You're right, you've no idea, that's why you cannot stop me. This is the end Hermione, the end to all the suffering. You won't need to worry about me anymore. I'm going Hermione. Bye bye."

At this, he got up and starting walking. He dragging a rope beside him, which was tied intentionally into a loop, creating a noose. Hermione bolted upright bewildered. At last she got up and began to follow Harry.

"No, wait! Harry, wait! We can talk this out! There are people that can help you! Please."

Harry stopped and kept his back to her, and they stood like that for a few moments. The air became cooler, and Hermione could see her and Harry's breath clearly. Clouds of white, whispy air circled around them. Harry tensed his shoulders up and somehow managed to walk quickly behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You care for me, don't you, Hermione?" he asked.

"Well, of course Harry. But I don't see how this is relevant..."

"If you loved me, you would come with me. The loop is big enough for two of us."

Hermione gasped, realizing what he was talking about.

"Oh Harry," she said, turning to embrace him, "Don't ever think about leaving me, don't, just don't." She began to cry. And surprisingly enough so did he. He seemed to shrink before her eyes, and become the eleven-year-old boy that she once knew. He looked up at her with sad eyes.

"Protect me, Hermione, protect me."

She looked down at him and smiled.

"How could I not, Harry Potter?"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Hermione, wake up, wake up Hermione, wake up!" the young Harry cried before disappearing before her. The blackness faded away. Soon, she was face to face with the present Harry fanning her. As soon as she blinked and squirmed when he went to give her mouth-to-mouth support, he drew back and smiled.

"Thank god! You had us all worried! I didn't even smoke once I was so scared!"

"Yeah, Harry didn't even light up once, he was that scared!" Ron smirked from above.

"Uh, that's, uh, that's, er, nice Harry. Help me up, please?" Hermione said wincing. She may have landed in a bed of feathers in her dream, but she sure hit something hard in reality. Harry hefted her up to her feet in one swift motion. Hermione staggered a bit, head rushed, Harry, as if on cue, caught her before she fell over.

"Not enough fawning attention? Want to go another fainting round?" he said, shaking a finger at her, "It was scary enough saving you the first time. Don't let it happen again!"

Hermione clutched her head harder, striving to steady herself. "Why don't you guys get a head start," she suggested, "I'm just going to slow you down."

Harry hesitantly skipped ahead before Ron could even say "sure" for the both of them. Very briefly Hermione locked eyes with Ron, silently glaring at him, searching out an answer to her unspoken accusations. In response, Ron's eyes widened in a slight panic, before he quickly hurried after Harry.

"What in heaven's name is going on?" Hermione mumbled to herself, as she watched the boys disappearing off into the distance, laughingly punching at one another. Her head still felt light, although suddenly heavy at the same time, with worry. What could the nearby future hold that would shake the three best friends so soundly after everything they'd been through together? Steadying herself by the walls solid surface, Hermione began to following slowly at first, then more determinedly after her friends toward whatever their fates may hold.

**********

"So, Miss 'Veasley," Madame Maxime began calmly, "'vhy 'is it you've decided to come to Beauxbatons, and 'vhy so very early?"

Ginny snapped out of her daydream, fidgeting slightly in her seat. Ginny strained to recall the excuses she'd given her mother earlier. It was something along the lines of 'it'd be a shame to not take advantage of a whole different wizarding culture while still attending school. Also, where else would she be able to improve her French without being distracted by other studies? The two went hand in hand. Study, France. Done' Going early would provide her an opportunity to get the feel of the city before the beginning of term.

She explained this to the headmistress, hoping she bought that made up excuse. Besides, she couldn't very well say that the real reason was that she wanted to escape the feel throughout Hogwarts, the relative ghost of the boy once called Tom Riddle, who would be a dark lord. She feared, that like the general public at Hogwarts, the people at Beauxbatons would treat her differently if they knew about her association with him. The sound of Madame Maxime's strong booming French accent snapped Ginny once again out of her thoughts.

"'Zat is a very nice ting to 'ear, Miss 'Veasley. Most of 'ze time, 've get boys 'oo just say 'zat 'zey 'vanted to see 'zee pretty ladies. Or girls 'oo say 'zat 'zey 'ave run away from 'ome."

"Really?" Ginny laughed politely. "Oh, why thank you, Madame Maxime."

The large woman then got up and stretched out her hand. Ginny did likewise and was then pulled into a bone-crushing handshake. She tried her best not to wince, and also tried her best to force a smile.

"'Vell, I can say, Miss 'Veasley," Madame Maxime said while continuing the handshake, "'zat you 'vill be a nice addition to Beauxbatons!"

**********

The Malfoy boy stopped at a nearby pub and sat down to have a nice long swig of butterbeer. After finishing half the contents of the glass in one gulp, he put it down, gripping at his head again. A bump formed and seemed to enjoy causing pain at the most inopportune times. Placing an elbow on the bar table for support, Draco took a moment to indulge wincing in the pain. The barman came over to see inquire on what was wrong.

"Lady troubles, m'boy?" he said while cleaning a pint glass.

Draco looked up at him wearily. "More like I fell down and knocked the crap out of me troubles."

The barman laughed.

"Oh, m'boy! You just reminded me of me when I was your age. A lady friend at that time and I, well we just had quite the row, you know, and she gave me quite the bump on the head, you know. And I told her she was a scaring me. And you know what she said to me?"

Draco stared down at his newly refilled pint of butterbeer. "What?"

"She said to me; Jonathan Masbeth, he who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life!"

The boy furrowed his brow at this. What the heck was that supposed to mean. "Let me take a guess here. Do you, by any chance, know Fitzherbert Tiddlywink?"

The barman's expression blanked, as if he suddenly killed the barman's mother. Nearly dropping the pint-glass he's cleaned a number of times by now, he continued slowly "He's just a legend, m'boy. Well, he existed once. He's a gone now, m'boy. Dead and gone to a better place now, m'boy."

Draco scrunched his face up in confusion.

"But, see here barman, Fitzherbert Tiddlywink is my psychiatrist. I just saw him this-"

"Look, m'boy, maybe you've had enough to drink for today. It's been nice chatting with you, but I have to get to customers. Yes, that's right. Have a nice day, m'boy," said the barman nervously. It was obvious that Draco was the only person in the small pub, but he had no time to point that out, as the barman disappeared before he could even pay for his drink.

The barman made it clear he had no intention of returning. Normally Draco would be compelled to leave with out so much as motioning for a cheque when a service person was being so impudent. He left a few coins as he made for the exit, obviously his head injuring was having a greater side effect than he had first suspected.

Leaving the nearby pub in a rush, Draco restrained himself from entertaining anymore charitable ideals, like a tip of some sort. Now was a time to makes some semblance of reason from the day's occurrence. Staring back at the little hole in the wall pub, which had now all its blinds and a 'closed' sign planted on the door mere seconds after he left, he sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. So began his walk back to the Leaky Cauldron.

**********

The trio, still in the midst of their revelry, denying the unnerving effect of the fortuneteller's insights, was too distracted to notice where they were stepping. They were so engrossed in their thoughts, that they hadn't notice who they had bumped into on their way to the wall leading out of Diagon Alley.

"Miserable miscreants, watch where you're going!" growled a familiar voice. The familiarity was enough to get the friends attention. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my fellow classmates," drawled the same, familiar voice.

The trio turned simultaneously to see where the voice came from. Snarls, and sneers catered specifically toward Malfoy's, one Malfoy stood before them specifically.

"Malfoy," Harry said, in way of an apology, with a polite jerk to his head.

Draco made a clucking noise with his tongue.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Taken up a new habit, I see. As if mudblood befriending wasn't enough, you had to go take up smoking. Tsk, tsk, Potter, what are we going to do with you? You know, I could report you to the ministry, seeing as how my father works for it, for underage smoking," he said, smirking.

Harry looked at Draco, bewildered, with his mouth hung open. A fair amount of ashes had collected on the end of his cigarette. He gulped a bit, sending the ashes to tumble down and land on his worn-out trainers. Finally realizing that he still had the cigarette in his mouth, he spat it out quickly and crushed it under his heel. He looked up to see Draco looking slightly amused.

"Oh, Potter, didn't your mummy ever tell you that nice boys don't spit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gritting his teeth slightly, Harry was preparing a rather snarky response when Ron got there before him. "So that's how you play your game Malfoy? Thinking that the best way to insult Harry is to start with his parents? Pathetic really, because well all know how jealous you really were of them. How Lily and James will always be better than your parents, no matter what. How you were jealous of their goodness, of their greatness. It seems that by insulting them, you're convincing yourself that they are somehow 'bad'". Ron held himself up triumphantly, believing he had finally defeated Malfoy.

"Weasel, you don't know me at all, do you? It takes more than a little insult to get me angry. Now I'm just amused. Why don't you run along, Weasel, before I-"

"Malfoy, what've you got there?" Hermione blurted out.

Draco, remembering that he had it tucked under his hand. He gripped it harder; somehow thinking that would make it invisible.

"Hermione..." Ron muttered at her under his breath, "What are you going on about?"

"None of your bloody business, mudblood," he spat as he clutched the diary harder and harder with every word he spoke.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "No really Malfoy, what is that book? Some Dark Arts spell book? Trying to show off to people your "abilities"? Trying to make people believe for fifteen minutes that you are better than Harry? Trying to make your last two years count?" She looked livid. In response, Draco blinked in amazement.

"Hermione," muttered Ron again, "quit while you're ahead! This is useless"

Yet again, he was ignored.

"Granger, you've some nerve to talk to me like that. I've enough knowledge and the power to take all of you out, single-handedly. So spare yourself the pain, and me the time wasted, and stay out of my way. Besides, one more word from you, and your little smoking buddy will hear from the ministry. They won't like it that the 'Boy who Lived' is now 'Boy who loves Cancer'," there, Draco thought to himself, that'll get the brats to bugger off.

However, much to his surprise, it wasn't Harry but Hermione who first responded, slapping him hard across the face. The sound resounded throughout all of Diagon Alley, every witch and wizard near seemed to turned in their direction.

Draco felt his cheek gingerly, feeling the warmth beneath his fingertips, as if he could still make out the imprint of her hand against his scorched flesh. His lips curled slightly as he glared in her direction.

"You could have just said, 'bugger off Malfoy', but no. Second time now, Granger, you can't bare to keep your hands off me." With that Hermione sneered in response, expressing her unuttered distaste. "You're such a hypocrite, Granger. So self-righteous, preaching peace and love, yet here you are. Face it, you're just as 'bad' as you say I am." Without waiting for a response, Draco pushed past all of them, making sure he gave Hermione an extra hard brush.

No one spoke until the Malfoy boy became a small, fair-haired dot in the distance. Both boys turned to faced the only girl in the group. Hermione blinked and frowned a bit. "Well," she started, attempting to smile, "that was interesting... Oh come on! It's not like he wasn't asking for someone to slap some sense into him..." The boys just stared at her. "Honestly... Anyway, it's been a long day, let's go home."

Placing herself between her two bewildered friends, she put her hands behind their backs and pushed them along to the end of Diagon Alley. She had never felt more humiliated in her life as she did now. Was she a hypocrite? Did she have a penchant for physically abusing people? Was she actually copping a feeling? She cringed at the thought. She hadn't really wanted to slap Malfoy, but it just sort of happened.

As the walked through the hole created for them in the brick wall, she looked back, taking in all the odd and awful things that were now a part of Diagon Alley's memories. Walking towards the car, she silently vowed to herself to prove Malfoy wrong. She'd bring peace, she will bring love, and whatever makes someone happy. If she is copping any feeling, she's trying to cop a feeling of love.

**********

Draco Malfoy attempted to keep a clear mind as he headed home, striving not to linger too much on the ache in his head and the sting on his cheek. Flying home through floo networks wasn't helping the situation either. He stumbled a bit as he landed hard on his feet in the living room of his mansion.

Great, he thought, I should have just stayed at home. As he rubbed his head for the umpteenth time, he let out another groan. Narcissa heard this and ran to her son's side.

"Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed worriedly. "I knew we should have taken you to a doctor! You are not well! Oh dear, oh dear!" Narcissa resumed her feeling of Draco's forehead, this time more frantically than before, as if a fever had hit her son double the force because she left him alone for a few minutes. Draco just pushed her hands away from him.

"I'll be fine, mum! I'll be fine as soon as you stop fondling my forehead as soon as you stop treating my head like it's some ripened fruit."

Narcissa glued her hands to her sides and turned beet red. "I-I was only trying to help."

The teenage boy rubbed the bump on the side of his head once again, which he now believed was growing because of the amount of stress that was building up inside of him. He let out an even larger groan.

"Yes, well, don't bother. I've had a rather crap day, and you hovering over me like as if I am about to die any moment adds to the heavy crap factor."

Lucius, who all this time had been examining different bottles of wine, stopped what he was doing, turned sharply, and slapped his son hard across in the same spot that Hermione had hit him. Draco winced hard under the throbbing pain. He gripped a nearby table for support.

"What the bloody hell was that for, dear daddio?" Draco asked between gritted teeth.

"Do you ever know when to shut up, boy? Even after you've had counseling, you still treat your mother like she is dirt under your shoe! Do you have anything to say to that?! Well?!"

Draco removed his hand from his cheek and stared at his father with utmost disgust. "Yes. I've got three things to say. One, obviously, according to you, I don't know when to shut up, and since you seem to think you are the authority of the household, your judgement seems to be the only thing that really matters. Two, one day of counseling does not bring miracles, anyone in the right mind knows that. And three, it's not like you treat her any better. I bet you even get off on it."

Lucius raised the back of his hand into the air, but brought it back to himself before he struck Draco where the bump on his head was. The whole time, Narcissa had her hands covering her mouth. She now carefully brought them down to her side, moving to spoke to the two males in a quiet voice.

"Now you two," she said rather nervously, "Let's just get settled now, and I'll get the house elf to make a lovely, warm meal. How does that sound?" She waited for a response from them, but all they did was stare at each other like they were about to kill one another.

"Sounds good, dear."

"Right, I'll go and give orders then, shall I?"

"Don't bother yet, mum, I'm not hungry. I'll go. I've got more important things to do than have staring contests with my father."

So he rushed up to his room, diary in hand. Maybe Fitzherbert was right all along about writing in a diary when he needed to be heard. Having a day like he was, he needed to be heard right now.

**********

"Dr. Tiddlywink?" said the secretary as she silently entered the psychiatrist's workspace.

"Yes, Kayli, come in," he replied without moving.

"You know the man that came in today?"

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes, him."

"What about him?"

"Is he, was he, a, you know?"

"Yes, Kayli, he was. Possibly still is."

"And what does he want you to do with the boy?"

"You know as well as I do."

"But you quit ages ago, didn't you?

"How observant of you."

"What are you going to do about this?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't know."

"You'll do the right thing, I know you will. You always have."

"I've made more bad than good so far. Saying that I did the right thing is almost as if you still agree with what happened in the past."

"I was just saying-"

"Will that be all, Kayli?"

"Yes, Dr. Tiddlywink."

"I suppose you know where the door is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then leave please. I am a busy man."

"Yes, Fitzherbert."

"Don't call me that."

"Yes, Dr. Tiddlywink."

**********

Slamming the door behind him, Draco flung himself on his bed. It was the finest feather bed in all of England. He curled up in its softness, and pulled out his diary from under his shirt. He had put it there so that it could not accidentally fly away into the floo network if he only had it in his hand. Tracing his fingers over the groves and bumps on the leather cover, he cracked it open and flipped through the pages. All of them were blank, white and untainted. Its exterior looked so old, but inside, it was as if the paper was periodically replaced.

He fished under his bed for a quill and ink. He had to sift through a lot of scrunched up papers, spell books and shoes before finding a rather dusty quill, and an almost empty bottle of ink. Blowing off the dust and stirring up the ink, he was all prepared to write. He placed the ink on the page and wrote the date, and the traditional 'Dear Diary', but there was one problem.

He didn't know what to write.

It was all up in his head. Every bit of suffering, every uncomfortable situation that he encountered today, it was all still fresh in his mind, but he did not know how to express himself.

Damnet, how do I start? Er, Dear Diary, today was a rather crap day. Here's what happened... No, no, that's awful. Dear Diary, I hate my life, what about you? No, no! What the bloody hell are you thinking Malfoy? The diary isn't going to talk back to you! Er, um... Dear Diary, First time writing, so this might be crap. Well, that sums it up pretty well... It's still a shite start, though... Er, Dear Diary, here is a list of crap things that happened today. Yes, yes, that sounds better. Now my list... Er, Father's being an utter git, er, old schoolmates not much better, uh, passed out after having a counseling session, dreamt something weird, er, got slapped twice... Came home, writing this... Just generally screwing about, not happy, blah blah blah."

He stood back for a moment and re-read what he just wrote. He scoffed at the diary and went back to write back one more thing.

"You know how some people are diary people? And are suited to them? I don't think I'm a diary person."

Slamming the book shut, he held it in front of him and stared at his for a few moments before throwing it hard against the wall opposite of him, watching it slide down the wall, and finally landing on the floor, flipping open.

He let it sit there, letting it look sad and beaten. He smiled to himself, thinking "That is what Fitzherbert gets for having me try to 'open up'. Writing in a diary indeed."

Scoffing at it one last time, he opened his bedroom door and walked out, slamming the door behind him before descending the stairs for dinner.

**********

While the world slept, Hermione locked herself in the Weasley's bathroom. She stared at her complexion for what seemed like hours. She felt around her face for anything out of the ordinary, trying to see if something could indicate why she was feeling so odd. First she was forgetting things, now she was dreaming about Harry committing suicide off the Quidditch pitch. Were any of these things related? She definitely did not know. When she had talked to Ron earlier, something she said seemed to have triggered something. Was Ron hiding something from her? From all of them? She didn't think that Ron, one of her best friends, would keep anything from her. They had always trusted each other with anything and everything.

When she had come out of her strange dream, and looked at Ron, it was as if she had said something wrong in her sleep, for the look in his eyes was nothing that she had ever seen before. His look was a mixture of horror, panic, and shock. Had she discovered something? Was Harry thinking about suicide, and only Ron knew? Hermione placed her face in her hands and sighed. She had never felt as lost as she did at this moment. She didn't know whom to turn too. Harry certainly didn't act as if he wanted to talk about anything deep, and Ron had avoided her since they arrived home.

Silently exiting the bathroom, she peered into both boys' shared room. Ron was fast asleep and snoring, but Harry, he was gone. Surprised to find that she wasn't the only one up, she looked around frantically for him. She eventually found him outside, smoking.

"Harry," she began, "It's a bit late to be out, don't you think?"

He laughed a bit.

"I should say the same to you," he replied, flicking a cigarette butt out of his fingers.

Sitting down beside him, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up. But much to her surprise, Harry put an arm around her as well.

"Harry," she said again, "What's going on?"

He looked at her with such relief in his eyes that she thought he was going to cry. He hugged her as a result.

"Thank you," he said.

She hugged back.

"For what?"

"For having me not be the only one who goes around in circles all day. I've been so lost Hermione, so lost. I'm happy one minute, and then depressed the next. I don't know what's happening to me."

"I don't remember anything, if that's any consolation."

Suddenly, he pushed her away. His hands were on her shoulders now, and he was staring at her intently. It put Hermione a bit ill at ease. Something about this position wasn't right.

"What did you just say?"

"I said that I don't remember anything. What's the matter, Harry? What is it?"

"Hermione, what don't you remember?"

She laughed nervously and looked down at her pajama pants.

"All of fifth year. It's stupid, I know. I'm probably just really tired, you know."

"No," Harry said sternly, "no, it's not. Something happened to us, and I think I know what it is."

"What is it Harry? What do you know?"

And that's when she woke up.

She had never left the bathroom. She had fallen asleep against the cold floor. Exhausted from going around in circles, she began to cry. So she cried herself to sleep, like she had so many nights ago.

"I need to talk to you Harry, I need to know what's going on..." she would say over and over again in her sleep, words getting choked out by tears every once in awhile.

**********

A week later. Malfoy Mansion.

It was like a ritual. Lucius Malfoy walking into his son's room, waking him up with the same militant tone of voice. Draco feeling the same feeling of annoyance from the moment he was forcefully awoken. Lucius constantly reminding him of the 'consequences' he would have to face if he didn't obey his father's orders. The same voice ringing in his head: "You were always a mess, and you will be for the rest of you life, it's in your blood!" Yet he learned to ignore it. Even the little things were ritualistic. He would take his shower, and droplets of water would fall from his body, making more work for the house elves. He would pick out his clothes for the day, which were usually black. He'd have a small breakfast before going out the door with his parents to see Fitzherbert. Before they left, though, Draco picked up the sad-looking diary from the ground. Over a short period of a week, it had been hidden under piles of clothes and different books. It was so well hidden that it took him quite a while to locate it. Tucking it under his arm, he left.

The ride to the Leaky Cauldron was a long one, and Draco would stare outside, watching the world go by. He saw a particularly interesting tree and traced the outline of it on the glass. His father, however, stopped this activity.

"Don't touch the glass boy!" He would say, "You'll get your dirty fingers all over it. And we just had the glass cleaned. We don't want to spend more money on cleaning it again just because you decide to soil it with your finger drawings!"

Draco didn't reply, but just sigh, and tap on the cover of his diary, which now sat in his lap. He closed his eyes, recalling what had happened in the past week. Life seemed so very normal up till that point. He had found nothing of interest to say to his family anymore, so he would keep quiet, unless it was to insult his father. It amused him when his father would turn red in the face. His mother, on the other hand, would do nothing. Draco hated hurting his mother, and hated watching his father do it even more. Yet, occasionally he found himself hurting his mother too, by his harsh words. That was one trait he unfortunately inherited from his father, verbal abuse he uses freely towards others, even if he doesn't mean to do it. It's as if his father sometimes controls his actions. However, it seemed as if he wasn't the only one. That blasted Granger girl enjoys as much abuse as he does, it seems. Draco could just tell she was building all the rage up inside of her for one good slap. What a sadist she is, he thought, and come the start of school she'll be preaching peace and love again, as if she is the definition of it all. It's the same with her simpering mates, that Potter and Weasley. They seem like such saints, but I know they all have something to hide. And I'll be the one to show everyone what they really are like. Draco smiled in satisfaction. All of a sudden, a appeared before him.

"Are you ready?" it said. Draco tried to focus his mind to figure out who was speaking to him. The face was definitely female. She smiled at him in recognition. "You still wear that necklace that I gave you?" She asked, looking down at his throat. "Yes," Draco said to this dream woman, "yes, I do. How the hell did I get it, anyway?"

Suddenly, the face changed into Fitzherbert's. "Are you ready?" the husky male drawling voice said. "What the?" Draco said, highly confused at this point. Fitzherbert's face faded into the lady's, and the lady's face faded into Fitzherbert's. Draco could even see resemblances at this point. "Why I am seeing two of you?" He scrunched his face up and tried running away, but everyone knows that in a dream, you can never go far.

The two faces separated and looked at him. They spoke at the same, "Are you ready, Draco Malfoy?" and they disappeared, leaving him in darkness. He opened his eyes, only to see that they had finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

He stepped out of the carriage before his father had a chance to shove him out. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the light. Looking at the faces of those around him, it was obvious that some of them, wizards only, knew who he was. They either bowed their heads in fear and intimidation, or they glared at him as if he was dirt under their shoes. As if by instinct, he clutched the diary closer to him, like a security blanket. He marched ahead of his parents to the 'Witchdoctor's Goods'.

Looking behind him every once in awhile, he would see that his father and mother were deep in conversation about something. It was most likely him, Draco thought. What else would be so interesting to talk about? The only Malfoy child acting out of order by insulting his parents and having 'petty rage', as Tiddlywink likes to call it. He curled his lip at the thought. He hated having other people tell him how to act. It was like being a dog, being told he was bad if he had an accident in the house, or a bird told not to sing, feeling someone hit its cage in rage each time the bird dared to sing even one note.

The walk was never ending. Most of the time, Draco would get lost in his thoughts, and almost bump into things. He could almost hear his father sneering at him in the crowd. At long last, he arrived at the small business. He went in without waiting for the rest of his family.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" greeted the secretary with a fake, sugary smile. "Right on time! Dr. Tiddlywink will be with you in a moment."

Draco nodded in reply. The secretary looked around the empty room.

"A-Are your parents not coming?"

"Oh you bet they are. You know, dadums current obsession is to have a quick chat with doc before we head out, so that he can make sure I haven't been too naughty."

The secretary actually laughed a bit.

"It's funny to see a Malfoy here, you know. The Malfoy's were always so perfect, you know, especially your father. He never had problems. It's odd, because I've known your father from awhile back, so does Fitzherbert, and we always joked that since Lucius, your father, was so perfect that he would drive his son into imperfection. It was a silly little joke that seems to have come true."

Draco sat down across from the secretary and smirked. Obviously some poor people thought very highly of his father.

"You say my father and Fitzherbert go back a long way? Did they go to school together?"

"Yes, they did. Both Hogwarts. Fitzherbert was a few years under Lucius, though."

"Fitzherbert doesn't seem the type to befriend my father. So how the hell did they become friends?"

A door opened and closed. The secretary put on a fake smile again.

"Oh, hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy! Now, Draco you should be heading into Dr. Tiddlywink's office. He will expecting you right now!"

A nod and a few steps later, Draco had entered the room that he entered not too long ago. Nothing had changed, not even Fitzherbert's chair, which he sat in now.

"Good morning, Draco," he said, drawling.

"Morning, shrink," Draco said before sitting in front of him. The psychiatrist seemed to only have one outfit. He wore the same soldier's jacket, the same white button down shirt, the same weathered pants, and the same Italian leather shoes.

"I see you haven't lost your tongue?"

"Not in a million years."

"Did we remember our diary today?"

Draco shifted a bit in his chair.

"Oh, that thing, yes..."

"You sound unsure of it. Is there anything you want me to see?"

"That's where problems come up. You see, shrink, I'm not a diary kind of person. They don't agree with me. They give me indigestion. They make me feel all wobbly inside. They give me dia-"

"Thank you, Draco, but I think that's enough of an excuse for now. So if you would please, give me your diary, because it sounds as if you actually attempted it. You surprise me, because I thought you would actually forget it here."

Draco shoved the diary into Fitzherbert's hands.

"You underestimate my genius, Dr. Tiddlywink. I feel hurt and need more counseling. My father won't be happy to know that you damaged my ego," Draco said, faking a hurt demeanor.

Fitzherbert just snorted with amusement.

"Good job, so far. Father being a git... Schoolmates not much better... Well, at least you're admitting it. Though, it seems as if the diary intimidates you. It seems you are scared to pour yourself into it. You must understand that the diary is only a book. It can't bite, or talk back to you. You can trust me on the fact that only you, your diary and me will see what you are going through. I tell your mother and father nothing. I've probably said this before, but what goes in this room, stays in this room. I'm here to help you "discover yourself", or whatever tripe psychiatrists say these days. Draco, know that you can trust me. I've gone through a lot of the same things that you are going through, possibly worse. So you can't ever say that I don't know what's going on, because I do."

Draco simply blinked. How Fitzherbert's rambling went from his diary to the two of them sharing similar experiences, Draco did not know.

Fitzherbert took a long, deep breath and cracked open his notebook.

"So how is everything going Draco? How are things at home? Because your diary isn't providing any new insight, to say the least."

Draco wasn't listening. He suddenly found the crackling fire overly interesting, and all he heard was "Draco" and "Home", both of which he had trouble dealing with at the moment.

"I want out. I want to get out of all of, all of this," he finally muttered.

Fitzherbert raised his eyebrows. He wasn't expecting an answer like that. He started jotting down some notes in his book.

"When you say you want out of this, do you mean out of this world, or your present way of living?"

Draco had no clue what he wanted out of. Did he want out this world, or how he was living? "I just want to knock on the right door. I want that door to open, and I want all the answers to be there.

Fitzherbert sighed. "Maybe you have to knock a little harder. People don't reach the right door right away, and some people never reach it at all. It all has to do with how this theatrical production called life plays out. Will the props people bring the door out, or are you going to be left there to mime it, and if you are miming it, does that allow you more freedom? Or are you just kidding yourself by playing out imaginary events that lie on the other side of that door? Will you ever come to the realization that there is no door, but just your mind playing a fantastical trick on you? Or are you forever doomed to just imagining your life's door, and having no say-"

"Wake up!" Draco yelled. "I'm the one that's supposed to faze out and talk deep nonsense, not you. God, if this is what I need to say in order to get a Ph.D, then I think I can skip College or University completely."

Fitzherbert smiled a warm, dreamy smile, despite Draco's attempts to insult him, and therefore back on the task that was him.

"Sorry about that. Just an adult's idle muttering."

"I noticed. Now can we get back to my problems? I don't feel like learning the different kinds of doors.

"Right, sorry, again. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. Shall we try this again? You said you weren't comfortable at home. So tell me, Draco, why?"

Draco shivered a bit and sighed. "I honestly don't know if I can put it into words."

"I don't care if you speak gibberish, Draco. I just want you to get the facts across. My job is to help, not to ridicule."

The young boy looked at him, and what he looked at was trust.

"Alright. Are you ready?"

"Lay it on me, and remember, Draco, that the significance of a man is not in what he attains, but rather what he longs to attain."

**********

"Well, Draco, all I can say is that I see a definite improvement already."

That entire hour, the two had shed tears of pain and laughter. And Draco was actually sad to leave Fitzherbert this time.

Exiting, Lucius looked at his son. "Hold on for a moment boy, I'd like to have a private word with Fitzherbert." Without waiting for a response, Lucius stormed into the psychiatrist's office, slamming the door behind him.

Fitzherbert, who had been writing at his desk, got up as soon as he heard his old friends footsteps.

"Now, you better make this quick, seeing as how I have a-"

But Lucius grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

"He isn't changing, Fitzherbert!" Lucius spat in the other man's face.

"Lucius, you know as well as I do that these things take time! I was young then. Being young enabled me to work easily. You should be glad that I can still do this, you know!"

"Should I, now? Well, whatever you're doing, it isn't the same as what you did in the past."

"Most of the others lost their touch and they were older."

"Ah, yes, you were the prodigy, the youngest in the team. Your cousin was so proud that his younger relative was doing such a good job as a-"

"Now you shut up, Lucius! My cousin is dead, all right? He died. He is now just a tale. A legend. A myth. It doesn't matter what you call it. But the truth is, that he is gone, forever. We lost him ages ago, Lucius. Now, he just plagues our minds."

Lucius let go of his friend's collar. "Is that how you see him? As a plague? Something awful? He did many wonderful things in his day, Fitzherbert."

Fitzherbert crossed his arms. "Yes, he did. But also terrible, awful things that will leave more than a scar in history's face."

Lucius walked over to a bookcase and ran his finger along the edge, gathering dust on the way. When he reached the end of the ledge, he rubbed the gathered dust between his fingers and sighed.

"I am getting older, Fitzherbert," Lucius said, still fascinated by the dust.

"So I have noticed," Fitzherbert said, arms still crossed.

"There is little that I can do for the boy as I age. You are younger and can relate to him better." Lucius sauntered over to the other man to whisper in his ear.

"Bring him to us. He can follow in your footsteps. He can prosper just as you had, he can-"

"Enough!" Fitzherbert yelled, pushing Lucius away in the process.

"Do you think I will turn into Judas and hand Draco over, just as he's actually beginning to trust someone?"

Lucius simply laughed. "Taken a liking to the boy, have you?"

"Once you break down his wall, he can be very likeable."

Lucius slammed his fist into the nearest table. "Damnet, Fitzherbert! He is not supposed to be likeable! He is supposed to be ruthless, just as you were!"

"You can't expect me to believe that you want him to be a mini-me? After all this time that I've tried to get him to speak to me!"

"Fitzherbert, do your job right for once!"

"I am! My job is to help people with their problems, not create more for them! I think you should go now, Lucius. There is nothing left to be said. I will see your son same time, next week."

The other man shrugged. "Fine, if that is how you see it."

Fitzherbert mumbled something inaudible before going back to his desk.

"Aren't you going to show me the door and say goodbye?"

"You know where the door is. Just leave!"

Lucius turned on his heel and marched towards the door. Right before he turned the knob, Fitzherbert spoke.

"A girl once sent me a letter. The letter said that I can see the pain behind her eyes, that I can touch her heart when it's about to turn to dust, and also that I stood by her when everyone else betrayed her trust. It was Lily who said that. I never betrayed Lily. I just didn't get there in time. The same is with Draco, but this time, I will get there before something happens. I will never betray him and become two-faced. If you are looking for someone like that, then go to someone else. I bet you know who else does those kinds of acts. Because not you, not even my cousin's ghost will get me to betray your son. I gave up that act a long time ago. I would die before that happened."

When he turned around, he noticed that Lucius had gone, typically leaving the door open for him to shut. He smiled despite himself.

"Just as well," he thought out loud, "I didn't feel like having a million questions about my relationship with Lily put on me, anyway."

**********