Secrets in a Book

No Turning Back Now

Draco sat at his desk, quill in hand. His notebook lay motionless on the desk, blank.
Usually, when Draco had time to write, words would flow through him. He spoke with enthusiasm. With a new journal, it made it difficult, even when he really didn't need to think too hard.

Blaise sat cross legged on the floor across Theo who was spread on his stomach. The two were currently playing their 3rd round of Wizard Chess.

They paid no mind to the blond student. Blaise knew that the Draco was writing and Theo didn't want to be yelled at. Draco usually screamed at his friends when they spoke to him when he was holding his quill.

Frustrated, Draco stabbed the pages relentlessly, piercing the paper with angry spots and lines.

He hated his new diary. He hated how Blaise had dragged him to the shops against his will. He hated how his friends ignored his worries. He hated everything

"You're thinking process brings agony to my ears." Draco heard Blaise comment. Draco turned his back and glared at the darker boy. He could tell that the comment was aimed at the fact that Draco's quill had been tapping against the table repeatedly, releasing an, as mentioned, awful sound.

"This isn't my thinking process. I'm mad."

"Tell us something new." Theo gave a side glance once he moved his chess piece.

"Fuck off! I hate you both."

"You're moodswings are surprising. You're acting worse than Greengrass when she's on her period." Blaise commented.

"During Muggle Studies." Theo added helpfully.

"I don't have moodswings. I'm just angry."

Blaise sighed, "Draco, why can't you just-... move King to E7... Checkmate."

"ARSEHOLE."

"As I was saying Draco, you need to know when to- hey, where are you going?"

"Away from you."

"Where though? That's what I asked."

Instead of answering, Draco used both his hands to flip the two boys off. He used his back to push open the dorm door.

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Harry trotted through the Hogwarts halls in a speedy pace. After he had read...that page of Malfoy's diary, he had sprinted out of room, kicking the diary under his bed in the process. Sure, he didn't properly hide it, especially since Ron had seen him, but could you really blame him?

He just found out that one of his classmates is practically working with the man that was out to kill him.

That isn't necessarily something that you brush off.

In a calm matter.

He just hoped to God that Ron wouldn't read the diary and act irrationally.

But would it necessarily be 'acting irrationally' if it was towards a supposed deatheater?

His train of thought was abruptly cut short. The sound of heavy footsteps against the school's stone floors distracted him.

The steps were moody. They pushed against the ground in force and anger.

Not wanting to get in the way of a possible violent encounter, Harry stepped to the side, sheltering behind a, conveniently placed, pillar.

Out of sight, out of mind.

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Any passerby with a fully, or even partially, functioning brain could of easily glanced at the hot-headed blond and chose to stay out of their path. It was an easy fight or flight response and, expectantly, no one wanted to fight the flaming dragon on a peaceful Saturday evening.

So Draco didn't run into any trouble on his walk.

He stamped his feet loudly, making it clear to everyone within a ten foot radius that he was approaching and that it would be in their best interest to clear away.

But when he reached a certain area, he stopped. His steps ended in a sharp halt and he was no longer as angry as he had been a few seconds ago.

He had practically stamped it out of his system. It wasn't the usual way Draco would calm his anger.

The usual way would be for him to write his frustrations down into his trustful original journal.

Just thinking about it made Draco pissed once again.

That thieving bastard Potter.
He was probably hiding in thr Gryffindor rooms, reading. The only limitations was his own, and everyone knew that Harry Potter had no limits.

What page could he be reading? The page about his mother?

Draco prayed to Merlin that Potter wouldn't be able to put the pieces together.

Could he be reading the page about the werewolf?

The page didn't specify exactly what had happened that day...

Or could he be reading the page about...

Shit...

Why didn't anything ever go Draco's way?

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From where Harry stood, it looked like Malfoy was having his own personal battle. His facing flashing with a wide range of emotion.

None of the emotions stayed on his face long enough for Harry to decipher.

Harry felt his eyes slowly gaze from Malfoy's face onto his clothed arm.

His left forearm to be exact.

It wasn't visible because of his turtleneck sleeve covering the pale, probably tainted, skin. But Harry's curiosity wouldn't be tamed by some measly obstacles.

If only he had his wand on him.

But Harry had thrown it onto his bed in the height of his panic before leaving.

The wand was probably still emitting a soft glow from his light Lumos charm.

This is why Harry wasn't the official thinker of his trio.

That was Hermione's job.

Harry's job was to dive into heroic situations, Ron and Hermione's job were to pull him out of getting his arse absolutely beaten the shit out of.

'But Ron and Hermione aren't here, are they?' He thought to himself, rather bitterly.

Gah... who needs them anyway?

Harry could easily take down Malfoy with one eye closed and one arm taped behind his back.

Well...

Take that back, both eyes and arms would be really useful in a situation like this.

So his decision was final.

Harry stepped out of his place from behind the pillar, his eyes now locked with Malfoy's

Silver eyes ignited immediately.

"Potter."

No turning back now.