Secrets in a Book

Stare and Share Death

Okay... Harry brainstormed. New plan.

A. Binge read the rest of the diary entries until Harry had read every significant page. When he's done, he'll shrink the diary size.

B. 'ACCIDENTALLY' bump into Draco and drop the book.

C. Pick up the book ask why it fell out of Draco's robes.

D. Try to convince Draco that he had his own diary all this time in his robe. The only reason Draco couldn't feel it was because he may have accidentally shrunk it.

E. Have Draco believe and worship Harry forever.

Full proof plan, right?
Sure, step D would probably take alot of convincing. Draco wasn't as dense as Ron, though Ron's newly developed knowledge of off handed subjects never failed to catch Harry off guard.

Alright, scratch that...

Draco wasn't as dense as Harry.

Ron wasn't dense... anymore...

And Harry was.

Even Harry could admit that.

"Harry, mate."

Harry snapped out of his thoughts, somewhat impressed over the fact that he was able to make his way to his dorm room lost in his thoughts without bumping into anything, or anyone... again.

"Ron."

"I know you want a bit of space but...uh..."

Harry watched Ron's facial expression turn from understanding to concern. He didn't need Ron to explain why he was feeling the way he was.

"Right, I'm sorry for startling you by screaming then running out of the room." Harry apologised sincerely, remembering Ron's reaction to Harry's sudden outburst. He's slightly surprised that Ron didn't go and check the diary to find out what had caused Harry to act the way he did.

"Do you think you can...?"

"No, I can't say anything. It's bad enough that I'm hoarding a diary that doesn't belong to me. Plus, I have to be a hundred percent sure before I start making assumptions."

Ron nodded, "I guess so."

Harry walked towards his bed, grabbing the materialised book and grasping the curtains that surrounded his bed. "If I'm not already up in the morning, don't wake me. I'm probably gonna stay up late and I'll probably— most likely— hex you on accident if you—"

"—If I wake you up, yeah yeah... I know the drill." Ron droned, rolling his eyes and falling back on his own bed.

Harry nodded, a small smile on his face, before he closed his bed off.

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Draco Malfoy, Age 16, August 2nd

I've been so busy these past few weeks. And by 'busy', I mean I've been practically holding on to a thin piece of thread, depending on whether or not I should throw myself off the roof of the Manor. Debating on whether I should order a house elf to take me to the roof, then I'll jump off so suddenly, they wouldn't have enough reaction time to have prevented my death. Then they'd be punished worse than any of their elf ancestors had.

That brings a smile to my face.

But here I am, somehow still here.

I don't know if I should be hateful or grateful?

I don't necessarily want to die, but my life is pretty much over.

I'm 16 and I bear a heavy task that will get me locked up in Azkaban anyway, so what's the point?

Why not just skip right to the end?

I'm aware that it'll happen anyway, why don't I just save myself the wait and make everything a little easier on everyone?

Because I'm a coward.

That's why.

I've survived through Bellatrix's inventive torture methods,

I've barely made it though the Werewolf,

I'm living in the same Manor as the Dark Lord...
I've seen his ugly pet snake feast on barely conscious muggle children....
The way it looks at me...
The way HE looks at me...

I've lived through all of this, I'm still— even if it is barely— standing.

Yet I'm too afraid to bring death on my own record.

I see death.

It slowly crawls towards me.

All I have to do is take a few steps forward and meet it halfway.

But my feet are stuck.

All I can do is watch it stumble towards me. Its slow, but its inevitable.

But now, I must turn my back, stare AND share death.

I must kill Albus Dumbledore.

This is really short and I'm sorry,
Ahh, life is a mess right now.