So much to say

I say my hell is the closet

I'm stuck inside

Can't see the light

And my heaven is a nice house

In the sky

Got central heating

And I'm alright

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Can't see the light

Keep it locked up inside

Don't talk about it

Talk about the weather

Can't see the light

Open up my head and let me out,

Little baby

Here we have been standing

For a long, long time

Treading trodden trails for a long,

Long time

I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside

Can't see the light

And my heaven is a nice house

In the sky

Got central heating and I'm alright

Here we have been standing

For a long, long time

Treading trodden trails for a long,

Long time

I find sometimes it's easy

To be myself

Sometimes I find it's better to be

Somebody else

I see you young and soft oh little baby

Little feet, little hands, little baby

One year of crying and the words

Creep up inside

Creep into your mind

So much to say

Here we have been standing

For a long, long time

Treading trodden trails for a long,

Long time

I find sometimes it's easy

To be myself

Sometimes I find it's better to be

Somebody else

So much to say

Open up my head and let me out

Little baby

So Much To Say, © Dave Matthews Band

So much to say

At least twice a week, he passes through that corridor. I don't know why, since he'salways alone and I've never seen any other Gryffindor go that way, but he does.

Every time, he glares at me, and every time I glare back, coz that's how things are supposed to be. And most of all, that's what's expected of me. He hates my guts, and I hate his. It's simple. It's always looked right. Until last September.

Don't ask me what happened then, because I have no idea. Actually, I'm saying September because that's the time he began to pass through this corridor, and that's the time I noticed him...under a different light, shall we say. But maybe it all began the year before that. I don't know. And seeing how deeply I'm screwed now anyway, I frankly don't care.

I'm afraid that one day I'll forget that - the hating our guts thing - and smile at him. A real smile I mean. A genuine one. Not that irritating smirk I throw at everyone. The Malfoy smirk. I took it from my dad. Must have passed right from his blood to mine, or something. That small curling up of the lips that makes people loathe you, and think that you don't care about it. And it's true, I don't care. Although...How come the fact that Harry hates me is pinching at my he brain these days? I mean, I'm doing everything I can for him to hate me, after all. And I hate him. I hate him. I do.

He's a smart-ass, a goody-goodie two shoes, a pain in the ass. And so annoyingly gorgeous. Plus, he defeated You-Know-Who countless times and still doesn't seem to feel any prouder for it. Sure, he's got a fan club now, among the youngsters at Hogwarts, and he's even more famous than he was 5 years ago, but by looking at him you really wouldn't guess that it's him. He looks so normal, so irritatingly modest. And the worst thing is I know he's not faking it. He just can't see how incredible he is. I mean how irksomely so, of course. I mean...You still need to have some grandeur inside you to be able to defeat You-Know-Who, right? Despite what dad says (I'm sure he'd go on a different tune in front of Him, though).

He always passes in front of me, while I'm waiting for my Study Of Ancient Runes class - not something I asked to study, I must say. But dad said...oh, well, figure it out by yourself, I don't wanna go through that again. And one time when some idiot had spilled out the contents of my bags by accident, and I had to search for my quills for a good ten minutes, I saw him pass back. I only saw his feet coming closer at first, so I looked up; he looked quite pissed. He saw me on all fours and smiled a little, and I was feeling too stupid already without trying to snap back some lousy retort. Besides, his smile was amused, not mean. At least I think it was.

And the rare times when he doesn't pass by, I feel empty. Twice a week I'm ignoring everybody that's talking to me, almost standing on tip-toe to catch a glimpse of him, and when he doesn't show up, I feel like I had been deprived of something, of something important and yet so simple it should have been granted to me. If only I knew what he's doing there, where he's going to, maybe I'd know for sure if he'll pass or not. Not that I care.

...see? Even here, my Malfoy-ittude is coming back, surging through my brain and trying to make me pretend there's nothing wrong going on. Even though nobody will ever read that thing, I'll make sure nobody ever finds it. I guess I'll even burn it tonight anyway. Just needed to put everything down, so that maybe it'll stop bugging me all the time. I'm not sure it'll work, but it's worth a try. I guess Harry Potter is harder to shake off than that simply.

People keep saying there's a thin line between hate and love, that both emotions are too deep and too passionate not to mingle somehow. But when people say that, they always mean that if you hate someone, it implies that maybe you love him. Never the other way around. Who would say, seeing two people madly in love with each other, that they're secretly hating their guts?! People just want to believe there's love in everybody, for everybody. That's making me sick. And what's making me even more sick, is that in my case, obviously, it's relevant.

I didn't plan on hating Harry Potter, after all. I wanted him to be my friend. I don't even know why I did it. It was obvious, first that it wouldn't work, but mostly, dad would have killed me if we had become friends. Because sooner or later it would have ruined his plans, because I think in the end he really loves me, and getting rid of Harry would certainly have meant getting rid of me, too.

I don't know why I offered him my friendship. Not that it must have looked much of a friendship at the time, but I had been so scared he'd turn me down that I couldn't think of anything else than trashing out the weasel. Nobody had ever turned me down. Before Hogwarts, kids were ecstatic when I came to them and got friendly. Because I was a Malfoy. Powerful. Dangerous. Better be on their side than with their enemies, no matter where the good lies.

But that year, that first year at Hogwarts, I understood for the first time that, maybe, power wasn't all. That our power wasn't even right, possibly. Of course, I shook it off quickly. And I got wicked. Not that I wasn't wicked before, but there, I got really nasty. And I liked it, every minute of it, and dad was proud. And then one day I had to open my eyes and see how wrong I had been, and I hate myself for that. Now nothing will ever be so simple again. I'm starting to distrust my father, to see how flawed he is. I'm starting to think You-know-who should be destroyed. I have always been afraid of Him, and I endured many a sleepless nights when I understood that Father had gone back to serve Him, but I had never before feared that in the end we wouldn't be safer than all the Muggle-born that He despises. He can't be trusted. And I know dad fears Him, too.

Harry Potter finally crushed my world to ruins. I don't feel like I belong to my family anymore, but it's obvious I don't belong to the "good" side either. I'm not even sure I want to belong to it. I just want...I just want to be free, no matter how cliché and dumb that sounds. All my life I've been told about honour and stuff, but in the end, I'd like to make my own choices, good or bad, without thinking I owe somebody.

Harry Potter crushed my world to ruins, and the worst thing is, I'm starting to feel glad that he did.

But he'll never know it. And he'll never be my friend, let alone more. It's been almost six years I've been a real prat to him, and I know his hate isn't fake. He loathes me. He'll probably end up killing me one day, if I'm not faster than him. He hates me with all his heart, and this time the thin line isn't there. It's pure hatred. No love.

And it's too late to try and make things better, because he thinks every word I speak is foul and treacherous, and I can't blame him. There's no hope whatsoever. So I'll go on being odious, because if I stopped it wouldn't change a thing, only make my 'friends' suspicious and put me in a situation I don't want to be in. And I'll go on being afraid of things my father's planning that I can't know about, that I don't want to know about.

And one day I won't even see Harry anymore. In a year and a half, actually. If I live until then, that is, because things aren't looking too good outside the school, you might say. The good side is winning, slowly but surely, which is something to be glad about, if you're not me. I'm afraid of what might happen if the Malfoys get out of this mess, and I'm also afraid of what might happen if Father is caught. And I hate it. Being afraid, I mean. A Malfoy isn't supposed to be afraid. But I don't have much choice, have I? I could pretend everything's fine, actually I do pretend everything's fine, but in the end it doesn't make much difference, because I know it's not.

I won't see him anymore. Won't hear him. Won't look into his eyes to see the emerald turning a deeper shade of green with anger. Maybe it's for the best. But it's hurting me so damn hard to think about that. Even...even what I'm feeling now is hurting me. Killing me. Because I've got no hopes, not a shred.

...

...

I guess I should as well write it down, since in the beginning I was supposed to do just that. I didn't intend to ramble about You-Know-Who and stuff, I don't even know where all that came from.

Let's write it down and burn it. Maybe once it's turned to ashes, maybe my heart will turn to ashes too, which would be a good thing, because anyway I'm not sure Malfoys are supposed to love anyone but themselves.

I think...okay...I know. God I hope nobody will ever read that, that'd be the death of me. Okay. Here goes.

I love Harry Potter.

Now if you please I'll go hang myself.