𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 ✔︎ ━ 𝖬𝖠𝖫𝖥𝖮𝖸

⚓︎ 𝘽𝙚 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩 ⚓︎

I had went back into Draco's room and grabbed the book, though, I was debating if I should truly read it or not. It's his personal writing; his emotions, but his mother also suggested I should.

So, with a sigh of fear, I opened it to the first page.

August 17th,
Today I had went back to Hogwarts once again. But it felt much, much different this time.
My head was in the clouds, thinking about my mother and father the whole train ride. They have been trying to covert me to the Death Eaters since year two, but it's only growing worse.
The paint he inflicts on me grows worse by the day, and so do my feelings.
My feelings for Y/n. She's always caught my eye- ever since first year- but I'm finally beginning to understand her.
I may have made a terrible mistake, though. I may have made her hate me.
And if I did manage to make her hate me, I'll have to carry on the act. She can't see me- not really- I'm a monster, inside and out, and no one deserves to see that.

It was like I had seen into his mind- or perhaps just a glimpse. The way he thinks is so utterly confusing, but I can't help but try and make sense of it. He doesn't hate me. But he wants to.

As I was about to read more pages, quiet footsteps began creaking down the hallway. My heart immediately did a leap. I tossed the book back onto the desk and ran toward the bookshelves, stopping and pretending to browse through them once I arrived.

Draco appeared in the doorway, staring straight at me. "You shouldn't be in here." He spoke evenly. I rolled my eyes at him and let out a huff of breath, picking up one of the novels from the shelf.

"You don't hate me, do you?" I asked, not making eye contact with him. Instead, my eyes looked over the cover of the book, which was a dark blue and had no writing on the cover— like the novel was a mystery.

"Of course I bloody hate you. What would make you think any different?" He asked with a firm tone, arms crossing. I could feel his stared directing toward me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of answering.

Instead, I led my eyes over to the journal on his desk, which had moved slightly from where it previously was. "You read my journal?" He yelled, his voice raising like I had never heard it before.

I was terrified— petrified— of what he may do now that he knew, but I wouldn't let my fear stop me. "Just say it, Draco. You don't hate me." I said evenly, a smirk of mischief pulling at my left lip.

Even despite my words, his facial expression remained the same; in denial. He looked as if I had just made the world crumble. And maybe I did, maybe I did make his world crumble.

"I hate you now." He said bluntly, eyes piercing into mine. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for what I had done. I mean, I did read his private journal. But his mother had told me to— I couldn't just not listen to her.

"Don't hate me. Your mother told me to read it." I replied, slipping the book back into the shelf. His face filled with concern, then confusion. "My mother was here?" He asked, though, it sounded much more like a demand.

I nodded. "Yes. She came through your door then disappeared back through it." I replied, my tone etched with evenness. I could tell he had wanted to see his mother— and at the very least talk to her, but she was already gone.

"Bloody hell." He said with a sigh, walking over to the sitting area. He took a seat on one of the chairs, slouching into the cushions. He brought his hands up to his temples, rubbing them impatiently.

I had no idea what to do. I didn't exactly want to comfort him, but I didn't want to stand where I was, being awkward as I watched him sulk.

"I like your mom. She seems nice." I said plainly, sitting onto the chair across from him. The fabric was soft, and the cushions were even softer; I sunk into them. It felt nice and relaxing.

"She's the only good person in my family. I haven't seen her in a year." He admitted, sorrow prospering in his voice. I nodded with understanding, watching as his eyes filled with sadness— not tears— but a certain sadness.

"I'm sorry. I know you must love her dearly." I said quietly, trying to offer him a smile, but his eyes were elsewhere, staring down at the ground. He nodded in response, not opening his lips to utter another word about her.

I knew it must be a sore subject for him, so I allowed him to whirl around in his sadness. There's nothing you can do for a broken heart— especially if the one that broke it is your own mother.

"Tell me, Draco... Do you truly hate me?" I asked. His eyes looked up, meeting mine. They were unreadable, as was his expression. I couldn't exactly make out what he was thinking, but I knew he wanted to tell the truth.

"No, no I don't." His eyes had a mixture of anger and sadness in them, and even some joy— a very rare sight to behold. I felt a sigh of relief escape my lips as he finally told me he didn't hate me. I don't know why— but it had made me angry whenever he told me he hated me.

"I wish I did hate you though." He finished, his words sounding especially true, like it was really something he did want. I cocked my head slightly, staring into his eyes. "Why?" I uttered the words with confusion.

"Because you make me crazy." He replied, his eyes looking to the floor. That's how I knew he was being truthful— because he couldn't even look at me when he said it.

I was in shock. Draco didn't hate me, not even a little bit. He's been playing chess with me; sending out his knights to protect himself. We've been spinning around one another as if we were on a carousel, and now, finally, I knew where he stood.