Draco Malfoy

[private to Astoria]

I've made the arrangements, and enclosed the information here.

I'm looking forward to spending time with you this weekend.

[/private]

And that is how it is done.

A decisive victory, Slytherin. Good work.

( private )

[warded to Hermione, Theo, Astoria, and Pansy (each as a separate ward, not a group)]

I am to see my father at Easter.

[/wards]

Idealism is what precedes experience; cynicism is what follows.
-- David T. Wolf

As I left Muggle Studies, I was stopped in the hallway by two young Hufflepuff girls -- fourth year, perhaps? -- who insisted on singing some ridiculous song about good girls liking bad boys. Thankfully they seemed far more interested in their song than in their intended audience, and I was able to escape.

Hufflepuff Prefects, I recommend you look to yours. I need no serenades.

[private]

I've already spoken with my counselor regarding the current strange events here at school. She had no advice, merely another assignment: I am to avoid nothing. I am to meet with everyone as intended this week, I am to interact with everyone as intended, and should the urge to sing come upon me, I am to let it happen.

She still does not understand that there are some things that are best not seen in the light of day.

[private to Theo, Pansy, Astoria, Macmillan, Hermione, Potter]

I expect this means fresh effort to catalogue and contain children and associates of all known Death Eaters.

I also suspect this means Smith may be in danger. Macmillan, look to your own.

[/private]

( private )

[Potter]

And if this means that it begins again, what then?

[/Potter]

I expect the Prophet eagerly awaits our conversations.

[very private]
I do not care for emotion. It is a weakness.

The 23rd marks a conjunction of Jupiter and Venus. I intend to be atop the Astronomy tower during the nights leading up to this event, observing as they draw closer. I wonder what those who have a more poetic bent make of this conjunction between the kind of all gods, and the goddess of love, so close to Valentine's Day. I find it amusing, myself.

[Astoria]
Would you care to accompany me for part of the day in Hogsmeade, this weekend?

( private )

[Slytherin Quidditch]

Expect long practices this week.

[/Slytherin Quidditch]

Hogsmeade this weekend. It will be a pleasure to set foot outside these halls for a time.

[private to Slytherin Quidditch]

As there is no match tomorrow, and as we only have two practices before our first match, be on the pitch three hours earlier than planned.

[/Slytherin Quidditch]

The person who sins will die. The son will not bear the punishment for the father’s iniquity, nor will the father bear the punishment for the son’s iniquity; the righteousness of the righteous will be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked will be upon himself.

yet

He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations.

I find the conflict intriguing.

[private]

Guilty. One further week in Azkaban, which shall make two more than I've had to spend there. I find myself oddly disappointed in the lack of publicity; it almost seems to simply done. I suppose they had their fill of sensationalism with my own trial.

I am as yet undecided what I think of the sentence.

[/private]

[private to Theo, Pansy, Astoria, Hermione, Potter, Macmillan]

How closely did you read the article in the Prophet?

[/private]

[private to Luna Lovegood]

Fine. Tea. Don't speak of it to anyone.

[/private]

[private to Theo]

Have we any word on Quidditch? Or do I need to work with that Hufflepuff to get a team in the air again?

[/private]

I've received three books to read in addition to course work. If anyone cares to find me, I shall apparently be working my way through Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, 1984, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

And now we know exactly what resentment a guilty conscience can breed. I should be interested in hearing his reasons for such betrayal of his nearest and dearest.

[private to Macmillan]

If you are looking for those who wish to make trouble, I suggest you look to your own house.

[/private]

[private]

A packet will be mailed to my counselor later, with my writings for the week and a letter detailing the abuse under which I suffer. This will not be tolerated.

In vivid contrast, my conversations with Potter and HermGranger have been not only civil, but pleasant illuminating.

[/private]

The first week back has been nothing if not odd eventful.

[private]

I came very close to turning around and going back down the stairs.

I reached the first point where I remember staring at him, and I stopped, looking out past where he had stood, at the sky beyond. The stars looked back at me, as if they saw me there, small and insignificant. And yet, at the same time, that was a moment that changed history. Mine. Snape's. The world's, perhaps. Certainly Dumbledore's.

I sat right there, on Monday night, and I waited while my body shook with remembered tremors. I fought memory and lost, then tasted the salt of tears.

On Tuesday I made it to the top, and I looked out over where he had fallen when Snape took his life. How small he had looked, crumpled below. I only saw for a moment before Snape took me away, but I remember that bright flash still, the look of him as he fell.

Potter says he was dying anyway, that he told Snape to kill him.

Mother says she bound Snape to his word to protect me and to finish the job, should I fail as I did.

I know the spell. I am capable, intellectually, of casting it. I know I never will.

I also know that while I did not cast it then, I am at fault for Dumbledore's death, and for everything else that happened then. I brought them into Hogwarts. I changed what this place was for the students. They all finally felt the same fear I had been living under for so long.

I can't go back to the tower tonight; there is a class. Tomorrow night is our class. All I ask of myself is to make it through. If it weren't Astronomy, I doubt I should even try.

[/private]

No one likes to look in a mirror and see the truth staring back at them. I can think of very few people that are so pure of heart that they have never transgressed, never had a second thought. Few have never passed the boundaries of what they thought was right, slipping into grey areas beyond where justification is all we have to prove the right of what we do.

Not everyone can see that mirror until they are forced to look at it properly.

[private]

I've sent an owl to my counselor detailing the events of the last few days. And I shall continue to document each event, as it occurs, of the abuse I suffer at the hands of my classmates.

When I retaliate, it will not be without cause.

It is more than stares, more than whispers. And there seems to be no escape. I went to Muggle London to be away from it, and still, I found myself accosted by Finch-Fletchley, who threatened me and struck me, and my hands are tied. I am bound by promises and bound by the need to finish this damned parole so that I might leave this place. This morning Macmillan threatened me as well.

They are self-righteous pricks with no ability to see beyond the ends of their noses, no willingness to look.

They want no violence, and yet they will bring it on themselves. Poke, and I will respond. Prod, and I will bite.

And amongst all this, the world has ended, for Granger Hermione Granger and I have actually agreed upon a point of study. It will make the Muggle Studies class more palatable.

One would think that with the number of times the world has ended in the last month that we would be quit of the ridiculous farce of moving forward within it. One would think it would be simpler. I can bear six months, and then tis done. The room, at least, is a haven, and I have yet to test whether the piano is in tune. Perhaps later this evening.

Astronomy meets later in the week. I should go up to the tower first. I shouldn't want to be amongst others, the first time.

[/private]

And so, another banquet to celebrate the start of the year is over. The speeches are as tedious as ever, and the first year students seem so young. I find myself pleased not to wear the badge of Prefect, and thus, be absolved from directing our newest housemates.

[private]

We spent the entire day there. One day, shut up in a tiny room with a miniscule tree that was locked away from being touched, with no gifts that he could reach. Simply Father, Mother, and myself, under constant guard and vigilance and not an ounce of privacy.

It was cold enough to chill to the bone, and I gave Mother my cloak as we left in hopes that she might stop shivering. For myself, the cold has yet to leave my bones. As for Father... he is still proud, and wears that like a cloak to warm him and I can see that it does nothing for him. He is hollow, and he would not look at me, disappointment that I am. When I caught his glances I could not read whether what was there was anger that I was not there, or anger at me for failing to save him from that misery.

Whatever they hoped to gain from sending us there, one thing is certain. The nightmares have changed. I woke last night to a room more chilled than I had imagined, the window open and cool mist blowing over me, when I'd sworn I'd left it closed the night before. Images jumbled together, placing my mad aunt and I in a chamber within Azkaban as she laid my back open, then left me upon the stones. A mixture of nightmares from before, with the horror of imprisonment cast over it all.

I spent the morning with my counselor and told her flatly that it is the place as well as the events that cause my dreams, and she has given permission for me to travel to London early. I leave home on the 31st and will spend time alone to catch my breath before returning to Hogwarts.

And yes, I gave my word that I will return, and I shall not break it. It is, after all, my word.

[/private]

It is a week early, and yet, I am packed. I leave Thursday morning for London.

[private]

I cannot manage to find sleep tonight. This morning, now, as late as it is. I keep thinking of the trip tomorrow, and I can find no joy in the holiday, nothing to look forward to. I should be pleased to see my father, and I find only anger at him for what he has done.

And fear at seeing Azkaban's walls closed around me, even for a time.

This has been a most unpleasant week. Potentially pleasant at moments, upset by displeasing events within those that could have been intriguing on their own.

The concert was more than acceptable. The music was quite well done, and the venue had the perfect acoustics. The company, on the other hand... I attended with a Mudblood. We both survived, and indeed, we were civil. My counselor was quite pleased to hear the results, and has tasked me with ensuring I speak with her another time once we are at school.

She believes this will stop the nightmares, to see Granger as something more than Mudblood. As human. It does not. If anything, they have been worse since Monday night. No images of Crabbe, none of Dumbledore. Solely her as she screams beneath my aunt's tender ministrations. It drives me to madness, I swear.

It is past midnight, and time enough to send gifts. A distraction.

[/private]

Gifts have been sent, Yule's dawn approaches, and I can see the new year from around the way. It seems we shall all see one another soon.

As it seems my foray into Emily Dickinson was such a success, send me recommendations of other Muggle poets. Preferably someone with vivid descriptive terminology, but I am quite ready to do with a good deal less death and depression.

( privately rambling onwards )

[private to Hermione Granger]

This is ridiculous.
My counselor has required that I request the pleasure
Of all the idiotic ideas, what does she hope I should gain from this ridiculous plan?

Have you intentions to attend the performance of the Messiah this coming week? I have been assigned   I am required to   It has been suggested that We should meet there, if you are. I should be intrigued to continue our conversations regarding music, or perhaps continue our debate. This is by no means an invitation to a date.

Would Monday do for you?

[private]

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

[private to Pansy]

And so, I am quite curious, my dear. How is it that your mother is involved in Theodore's rebellion?

[/private]

[private]

And so the holidays come upon us, wrapping their bright cheer and charm around us all in false gaiety. And to cap it off, new policy allows rare visits to dear loved ones who are incarcerated, giving them the joy of family in these bright days.

Why yes, Mother and I are to travel to Azkaban for Christmas Day to see my dear father.

This shall be the highlight of my month, to step into that place for the first time. I feel the walls close around me from here. I wish to neither see the place, nor the man.

One thing I have found, in the last few months, is that in the midst of my incarceration, I had my first taste of freedom. I am not ready to give that back.

[/private]

[private]

Note to self: Divination is a load of drivel.

However. Discuss with Counselor as this should give her a wealth of already obvious information to go over once more. She will revel in being able to ask whether I truly believe my father cares nothing for me.

There was nothing in it that Patil could not have obtained from reading the newspaper last summer and coming to the logical conclusions.

She is delusional if she truly believes I would sacrifice, or walk through fire, merely in order to obtain happiness.

In other notes, I do believe I have had a civil conversation with Granger. The world is ending indeed.

[/private]